Malfoys, Weasleys, and Underestimated Magic
by Drollittle
Summary: Scorpius is a pianist, Albus becomes an animagus, Rose is an arithmancer, and the youngest Weasley has Down Syndrome. House elves, merpeople, music, and more!
1. And Summers Are Away

**1. And Summers are Away**

_There comes a warning like a spy_

_A shorter breath of Day_

_A stealing that is not a stealth_

_And Summers are away -_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy! An honor this is, an honor. What can we git for yeh?" croaked Madam Bullstrode as Scorpius stepped out of the August sunlight, into her shop in Knocturn Alley. He did his best not to look at the jars of cat's eyes on the counter in front of him, aware that they seemed to be doing their best to look at him. He pulled out his mother's list.

"Good afternoon, Madame Bullstrode," he said with just the right distant politeness for their difference in age and social status. "I need a jar of murtlap essence, pint of frogspawn, porcupine quills, _bat guano_," he said with distaste, "and chocolate cherries."

"Mmm, delicious," said the burly woman as she started scooping guano into a sack. "'Ow much 'o this will yeh be needing?"

"Oh, I am not sure actually, I...I think that is enough."

"A'righty then, sir, and the box of cherries...'ere...yeh gitting these for someun?"

"My mother."

"Oh I see...thought there might be a young lady...they always like these chocolates an' roses, you remember that, if there ever is a young lady..."

Scorpius frowned.

"Not sayin' there isn' already or...not to stick my nose in, pardon, Mr. Malfoy..." she apologized.

"Murtlap essence, frogspawn, and porcupine quills?" he reminded her.

"Oh yes, o' course! Max! Gus!"

Two boys appeared at the top of a rickety staircase.

"Hello, Erlkonig, Erlkonig." Scorpius nodded to them.

"'Ello Malfoy," they responded.

"Oh yeh know my nephews? But o' course," she clapped her hands together, "yeh play Quidditch together! I hear ye're a good Seeker."

"Thank you. Maximus and Augustus are good Beaters," Scorpius said. The truth was, the 5th and 3rd year brothers were probably better as Beaters than Scorpius was as a Seeker. He kept playing mainly to please his parents; he had lost the snitch to Lily Potter or Zhi Chang consistently. Slytherin hadn't won the Quidditch cup, or the House cup, in any of Scorpius' first six years and he didn't expect to win it this year either, but he took comfort in reminding himself that Slytherin was still better than Hufflepuff.

"Good beaters, that they are. Boys, fetch down a jar of murtlap essence and a bag of porcupine quills for Mr. Malfoy."

"A'right," Maximus grunted and they went, while Madame Bullstrode filled another sack from the bucket of frogspawn.

When Max and Gus brought the things downstairs, Scorpius payed for his purchases and said goodbye. Scorpius charmed the bag with weightlessness, which was not necessary but he was still enjoying the novelty of being of age. He walked down the alley, humming a line of the piano accompaniment to a song by Schubert, to meet his father outside of Borgin and Burke's.

Father was still inside, talking, and Scorpius pushed open the door.

"...a first time for everything, eh, Mister Malfoy?" cackled the elderly Mr. Borgin. "Never seen the like in this shop. Not just a mudblood, I mean a real muggle: wife of some blood traitor, wanting to buy something pretty!"

Draco Malfoy raised his eyebrows warily, "Please don't tell me you sold her something—"

"I sold her a thunder ruby." Borgin grinned. "No harm done, no harm...as long as she doesn't get angry while she's wearing it...ah, your son is taller than when last I saw him. Young Master Scorpio, is it?"

"It's Scorpius." Scorpius sneered, dropping the pretense of respect that he had bestowed on Madame Bullstrode. Greasy old Borgin wasn't even worth that.

"Scorpius, yes, very Romanesque. Away to Hogwarts again next week? You'll be interested in this new item, this invisible book cover. Carry a book into your exams and only—"

"I don't cheat," Scorpius said coldly. "Father, are you done here?"

"Yes, I believe I am."

Borgin hurried forward. "Before you go, Misters Malfoy, I should tell you," he put a hand conspiratorially on Scorpius' arm and lowered his voice, "Marcus Flint got an import of chimaera tail-venom and unfertilized dementor spores. From the Oni himself he bought them, he says. We are meeting here at eleven o'clock on the thirtieth to stew a poison of despair, and—"

"Borgin, we don't—"

"—and as you know, the more wizards help, the easier the stewing—"

"We don't have the slightest interest in it, thank you very much."

"Well then, have a nice day, sirs."

As soon as they were away Scorpius asked, "who did he mean, 'the Oni,' that someone bought dementor spores from?"

"It's a rumor, that there is a wizard in Japan that has a strong control of dementors," explained Scorpius' father. "You know, the ministry here has been trying to get rid of them, and the rumor is that they have gathered to this 'Oni'. Marcus Flint, of course, is always after untradeable goods, wherever he can get them."

"We should report it. And Borgin, for selling dark items to a muggle!"

"No, Scorpius. I would not advise getting involved."

"But Borgin—"

"Borgin and Burke's has been reported to the ministry dozens of times. They know how to exploit loopholes, so we would not make any difference; we would just make things unpleasant for ourselves. Listen, son," Draco pulled Scorpius aside, to a quiet corner of the alley.

"It is never wise to make enemies. Grandfather and I learned the hard way, that fighting for someone's radical ideals is dangerous. It nearly destroyed us; it was luck that gave us the chance to assume a neutral position at the very last minute in the War, and escape with our lives and freedom."

_Luck_, thought Scorpius to himself, _yes, a certain piece of luck named Harry Potter, the way everyone else tells the story._

"But Father, don't you think that it's wrong, smuggling dangerous material, and hurting muggles?"

Draco bowed his head and sighed, "I hesitate to say what is right or wrong, or even if there is a distinction...I don't trust myself to judge those things."

"Mum has always said—"

"Your mother has a simple and innocent perspective on life, and I would never take that away from her, but if I opposed someone like Marcus Flint, if you opposed someone like Marcus Flint, it would make our family a target and put her in danger. We mustn't do that. We will tread the middle ground, be friendly, and mind our own business. We can accomplish much more through flattery than through force."

_Accomplish what? Securing wealth and comforts?_

"We Malfoys are Seekers; we shouldn't interfere with the other players."

"No, we just look for the gold..." Scorpius muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Listen. I have said this before, and I am saying it again: Don't make enemies. Don't choose sides. I don't want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father." Scorpius didn't know if he agreed, but he understood.

"Good." Draco stood tall again and adopted a light, haughty tone. "It's paradoxical really, that as long as we keep our heads down, we can keep holding our heads high; the Malfoy name still means nobility. Now, let's go meet Mother."

Scorpius matched his father's stride, and the crowds parted to let them through Knockturn Alley and up to the patio outside Fortescue's ice cream parlor and café.

Astoria Malfoy stood out in a crowd. Jealous observers speculated that she was part veela, but since part human ancestry was worse than part magical ancestry, her family denied such an idea. One didn't need veela blood to be beautiful.

She smiled and winked to Draco and Scorpius when she saw the pair coming up the cobblestones of Diagon Alley, and she moved her chair closer to her sister Daphne's to make room for them.

"Scorpius looks distinguished in that deep blue; I've always said that fair-haired men look best in dark colors, don't you think?" Daphne was saying as they found chairs.

"Yes, and these two look better than any!" said Astoria, "Sit here next to me, Draco...and are those my things from Millicent Bullstrode's? Thank you, Scorpius dear."

Daphne was still rambling about fashion, "I suppose that's why you dyed your hair black, Astoria, so you can wear your summery white and cream robes and still have that dramatic contrast?"

"I suppose so," Astoria agreed absently, "Do you have any more school shopping to do, Scor?"

"No Mum, it's done."

A cheerful witch came out and took their orders for lunch.

Aunt Daphne leaned toward Scorpius, "Are you happy that it's your last year, or will you miss school? You have been quite the scholar..."

Scorpius shrugged. He was looking forward to being a seventh year, but the thought of finishing school hadn't quite sunk in.

"Well, I'm glad he will only be there one more year. The changes in staff have been deplorable," said Draco.

"Oh?" Asked Daphne, "you don't like Vector?"

While listening, Scorpius had been scanning the crowds of shoppers. Some kids looked so little, they were practically hidden behind their piles of schoolbooks. Then he spotted the person he had been half hoping, half fearing to see. Rose was leaning against the outside wall of Ollivander's with her nose in Eratosthenesian Calculeux in Design. Scorpius recognized the book, having bought it himself a few days ago. Next to her, her brother Hugo was spinning a small brass planetary model.

Draco answered Daphne, "That's not the problem; Septima Vector will make an excellent headmistress, first Slytherin Head in ages; no, the problems are her replacements. She was Head of House as well as Arithmancy teacher, and there were no other Slytherin teachers, so we governors had to bring in someone new. Terence Higgs."

"What does he teach?"

"He doesn't teach," snipped Astoria. "he will be the referee and flying instructor."

Daphne balked. "And Head of House? That's—"

"That's an indignity to Slytherin house, that's what that is," growled Draco.

"The board couldn't find anyone else?"

"No one."

A young house elf in a blue striped shirt, slacks and bow tie brought out their food. Aunt Daphne chuckled disdainfully at the new-fashioned elf, then asked Draco, "Well, what about the Arithmancy post?"

"It's even worse. Weasley."

Scorpius focused on his sandwich.

"Bill Weasley?" Asked Daphne.

"_Hermione_ Weasley."

"What? She can't teach _and_ run the Communication and Cooperation with Magical Beings Division, _and_ edit the Journal of Wizarding Law!"

"No, she is leaving the Ministry and the Journal to go teach. The Beings Division is in the hands of a committee now—half-breeds and animals, most of them. She claims teaching is that important, but it is obvious she wants to be at Hogwarts to look after her youngest daughter."

"That _little_ girl." Astoria added, "you may have seen her—Cute. Different."

Looking over his parents' shoulders, Scorpius did see her. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Rose's younger sister Emilia were coming out of Ollivander's. The short, brown haired girl was holding a wand and grinning from ear to ear. He hoped they wouldn't look his way.

They didn't.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius woke up late on August thirty-first, to the sound of the manor clock striking six. He flung himself out of bed, into some clothes, and down the three flights of stairs.

"Scorpius, it's rude to be late to family meals," scolded Narcissa Malfoy from the end of the long rectangular table, "and you are wearing brown trousers with a black robe."

"Oh...sorry Grandmother." Scorpius took out his wand and wordlessly changed his robe to brown.

Astoria suppressed a smirk. "Sit down and eat, handsome. It's your last day of summer; do you want to go to work with me?"

Scorpius tried to look interested. _Watch Mum and Aunt Daphne photograph fashion shows for Witch Weekly? Not fun._ "Um, that sounds fun...but Paris is so hot...and I don't really like apparating all that way..."

"You'll get used to apparition sooner the more you do it," his father said while buttering a scone. "If you work in magical importing administration like me, you may have to do cross-Atlantic apparition."

"Yeah. I think I'll just stay at home today, though, and check that I have everything packed."

"I don't mind," his mother said, "I didn't really expect you to want to come. Enjoy your last day to relax, you are going to be busy at school—taking ten classes, Quidditch, and being a prefect."

"Are you sure you still want to take all those N.E.W.T.s?" asked Grandmother, "You could drop Arithmancy, it's sure to be dreadful, when taught by Hermione Weasley...but I forgot, you like a Weasley girl..."

Scorpius' father scowled fiercely. "Mother, that was more than two years ago. Scorpius broke up with her and it is over and done. Right, son?"

"Right," Scorpius lied. Actually, Rose had been the one who broke it off, but he would never admit that to his family. He suddenly felt no interest in his sausages and fried tomatoes.

"Well, I'm glad you realized that a half-blood girl isn't fitting for a Malfoy. Now what about Cristine Burke? She is just the right age, and quite pretty—"

"Cristine Burke is already dating Gerald Portobello."

"Nonsense. The Portobellos are nobodies. I will have a chat with Carolina Burke."

"Grandmother, you don't need to, really." Scorpius said, keeping his tone polite. These conversations were so habitual that Scorpius was hardly upset by them. It certainly wasn't a shock to hear his grandparents insult half-bloods and muggle borns, though when they criticized Rose specifically, he felt a knot in his stomach.

"I want the best for you, Scorpius. You're a charming young man when you try to be; I'm sure you could win over Cristine if you show her how much better you are than a Portobello. Invite her here during the Christmas holiday to show her the manor, and play her some of your music."

All Scorpius knew about Burke was that she and Portobello kept losing points for Slytherin for skipping prefect meetings together, but there was no point in arguing with Grandmother Malfoy, so he smiled and said, "I will give it a try."

The doors opened and a cart wheeled through, pushed by an elf with thick eyebrows, a square jaw and an overlarge white frilly dress shirt.

"Patto hopes the breakfast was good, Sirs and Madams?"

Narcissa turned her nose up; she rarely spoke to the paid house-elf, but Draco answered, "Breakfast was good, thank you, and I presume you took some to my father?"

"Yes, Mister Malfoy finished his scone, milk, and some eggs but wasn't wanting his sausage or fruit. Patto made sure he had all his potions, too."

Draco nodded.

"Patto will be weeding the front lawn today, washing the third floor windows, and making Mister Scorpius' favorite duck a 'lorange and pecan pudding for his last day at home. Is there anything else Sirs or Madams wants?"

"Polish the silver in my rooms." Narcissa said, still not looking at him.

"Certainly, Madame, if Patto has time in the afternoon, or tomorrow..." said Patto with a hint of smugness. He didn't have to obey her.

Dirty dishes on the cart, Patto wheeled it out, and Scorpius' parents both apparated away for work.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius stepped lightly over an old stone wall and crossed a dry stream bed, then watched a flock of tiny birds rise from some tall grass up into a hollow old apple tree as he climbed a hill. The birds only stopped in the tree for a moment before flying on into the sky and out of view. Scorpius kept walking.

He liked the Malfoy manor house, and he liked the front lawn and gardens, but the best part about home was their forty acres of fallow land behind the house. After seventeen years, he could still go walking and see things he had never noticed before. There were hills, and little valleys between the hills; trees, and little trees growing out of trees; and here and there the remains of pre-Norman muggle dwellings.

There was a long barrow near the back of the property; Scorpius knew it was a barrow because he had gone in and looked. There was no reason to be scared of it, since muggles couldn't be ghosts. Their spirits had long since moved on, and their bodies had either disintegrated, or...well, old Malfoys... Scorpius didn't think of the place as creepy or macabre, he just thought of it as a resting place, a little hill that said, "once there were people here." He rested there. Lying down flat in the grass on top of it, he wondered what it was about the afterlife that witches and wizards had the option to avoid, but muggles were universally compelled to face. Scorpius liked muggles, at least all the ones he had ever met (but all the ones he had met were musicians, so naturally he would like them).

Scorpius Malfoy had a double life, an obsession that his parents dismissed as childish and his grandparents would have disowned him for if they knew the extent of it. He studied the piano, with muggles. Mum would tell Grandfather and Grandmother that Scorpius was visiting Andromeda and his second cousin Teddy or that he was going with her to Paris, while he went to lessons and attended summer music camps. Mum was quite a clever liar, as much as people classified her as the empty-headed beauty.

Staring up into the late-summer sky, with his hands resting on his chest, Scorpius let his fingers drum out the patterns of the _Berlioz/Liszt Symphonie Fantastique for Solo Piano _that he had learned for that summer's national young musician's competition.

He thought about what he had heard from Mr. Borgin. He had let the opportunity for action pass by—eleven o'clock on the thirtieth had come and gone last night, Marcus Flint must have met with whatever accomplices he had gathered, but the world didn't seem any worse off. Maybe Father knew what he was talking about.

There was a hoot, and a sleek bird soared over the trees. Scorpius sat up and held his arm out for his black and white Great Horned Owl, who was carrying a letter from Al.

"Thanks, Antares. Go get a good day's sleep; it's Hogwarts tomorrow."

Antares flew away toward the manor, and Scorpius opened the letter.

_Scor,_

_Sorry it's taken me a week to reply, they've been keeping me overtime at work to help write reports. Yuck. I mean, the experiments are amazing, but the reports are yuck, especially since they have to be written in unique codes and invisible ink._

_Sorry you didn't make it to finals. Semi-finals sounded prestigious, though, and my hat's off to you for not cheating, since I assume that if you had used magic at all, you would have won._

_Ok, now it's been over a week. Sorry, mate, things are ridiculous over here. I guess you sent Antares back to remind me, so I am finishing your letter and sending it in __**5**__..._

_Have you started reading "W^LX NYT TK^NZLAT" yet? Man, if there was any chance of being bored this year, Runes ruins it. How does a Rune ruin? I don't know, it just sounds cool and I am excited about it. __**4**__..._

_Emmie is one little continuous explosion of joy about starting at Hogwarts. I don't think she is nervous in the slightest, so I'm sure she'll be in Gryffindor and we will be happy to claim her! __**3**__..._

_You were right, I got the bighead badge, though I think it is currently hidden somewhere in James' flat. __**2**__..._

_Have you changed your mind about doing the A. project with me? See you in less than 48 hours! __**1**__..._

_-Al_

_**Go!**_

Scorpius put the letter in his pocket and set out for the house. He wanted to leave Grandmother in a good mood when he left the next day, so he clipped a branch of wild roses, used transfiguration to fix the blemishes, and arrived to lunch at noon precisely.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius spent the afternoon saying goodbye to the other part of home that he would miss: his piano. Scorpius opened the large windows of his upper east wing piano room to let in a breeze, and he played his solo, the _Symphonie Fantastique_—the dreamy first movement, bright waltzing second, pastoral third...but he didn't play them like a muggle. Setting his wand above the keyboard, he transformed the sound from the piano to take on the timbres and textures of a full orchestra—the blaring trombones and rolling timpani in the fourth movement march, and the piercing oboes and frantic strings in the unsettling fifth.

It left him sweating, and he was glad for the breeze from the windows. He lowered his head and rested his hands on the keys for a minute, then straightened again and played a series of scales, listening to the natural piano sound of his top-of-the-line Steinway grand. He had tried to transfigure a table into a piano at school, and it sort of worked, but it never stayed in tune and had a woody, boxed-in sound that simply didn't compare to his own genuine instrument.

Last he played a few of his childhood favorites: Harmonious Blacksmith, Arabesque, the French Children's Song. While he played, his parents both slipped in and sat on chairs by the wall.

"We will miss hearing you play."

Dinner, at six, was delicious but quiet. Scorpius thought he ought to compliment Patto on the cooking, that was what Rose would do, but was there any point in trying to please Rose?

o.o.o.o

The next morning promised another sunny day for the beginning of term, and Scorpius offered to take breakfast to his Grandfather's room so that he could say goodbye.

The southwest corner of the manor house was always too warm at this time of year, in spite of its stone walls and spacious rooms. Maybe it was something about how the sun hit it, or maybe that was the way old Lucius Malfoy liked it. The portraits on the walls muttered and wiped their foreheads with embroidered handkerchiefs as Scorpius carried the tray of food and potions to Grandfather's room.

He knocked on the door.

"Hello, Grandfather. May I come in?"

Scorpius waited a few moments, and when there was no answer, knocked a little louder.

"I have your breakfast, sir, are you ready for it?"

No reply.

"Grandfather?"

Nervously, Scorpius pushed open the door.

Grandfather was in the big armchair he always sat in by the fire; Scorpius could see the toes of his pointy boots on the other side it. Scorpius brought the tray and set it on Grandfather's spindly, claw-footed side table.

Lucius was sitting quite still with his eyes closed. His face was wrinkled; pride, malice, fear, and denial etched in a permanent scowl on his aged features.

"Good morning, Grandfather," Scorpius said as loudly as he could without shouting.

"You have fried eggs, milk and apple juice, and buttered toast, and all the potions you are supposed to take..."

Still he didn't stir.

"Grandfather?"

At last Lucius twitched and grunted, "What is it, boy?"

With immense relief, Scorpius answered, "I brought your breakfast, sir, and, I will be leaving on the Hogwarts Express at eleven this morning."

Grandfather squinted at him. "Away to school. Your seventh year, is it?"

"Yes sir."

"Head Boy?"

Scorpius sighed. They had already had this conversation at least twice. "No, Grandfather, I am not head boy."

"What? Who is then?"

"Albus Potter."

"Potter! The Potters have been half-blood since 1840," he grumbled, "boy who lived indeed..." Grandfather frowned thoughtfully. "But he did live, didn't he, after Cissa said he was dead...and you lived too, son, and so did I..."

Grandfather blinked at the fire, and looked like he might fall asleep again.

"Do you want the tray on your lap?"

"No, no, just hand me the plate of eggs."

Scorpius watched as his Grandfather slowly ate. Then Patto poked his head around the door.

"Mister Scorpius is being wanted to say goodbye to his parents, sir, they is needing to leave for work. Patto will help Mister Malfoy finish breakfast."

o.o.o.o

Scorpius said goodbye to his parents, double checked his packing, and spent the rest of the morning beside Grandmother in her Boroque-designed sitting room, trying to read his textbooks while keeping anxious watch on the clock. Finally at ten thirty he took hold of Antares' cage in one hand and his trunk in the other, spun on his heel and apparated to platform 9 3/4 to begin his last year at Hogwarts.

**Notes:**

**Ready for an adventure? This will be different than anything I have written so far: longer (how long I'm not sure, but a full Hogwarts year), more intense, and with a more flawed main character than I have written in the past.**

**They say, "quotation is a substitute for wit," and I say, "perfect. I will just add a few nice quotations at the beginnings of the chapters."**

**Antares is the name of the brightest star in the Scorpius/Scorpio constellation.**

**If you are interested in some prequelage, An Unexpected Beginning, A Musical Muggle Meets Magic, and The Hat's Jealousies are short stories that lead up to this one. **

**That's all. Happy Reading!**


	2. Party at the Station

**2. Party at the station**

_There's gonna be a certain party at the station,_

_Satin and lace, I used to call funny face._

_-Mack Gordon_

* * *

The platform was beginning to fill with families. Half an hour before departure time, the space was already gathering noises of excitement, owls fluttering in their cages and people waving to each other. Scorpius stepped toward the train, intending to drop his luggage in the prefect compartment before coming out again to look for Al.

Then he heard a voice call, "Oi, Scorpius!" and turned to see his second cousin, Teddy Lupin, with Victoire, whose blonde hair looked like moonlight in the night sky next to Ted's dark blue.

"Apparated here on your own this year? Congrats on being of age." Ted said, clapping Scorpius on the back.

"Congratulations on your first anniversary last month!"

"Thanks. It's the best, being married." He gave Victoire a kiss on the forehead, "but have you still never gone through the barrier?"

"No, Mother or Father always brought me straight here by side-along apparition. It's much easier than dressing up and going through muggle London."

"Aw, but running through the brick wall is a rite of passage." Said Victoire, "You have to trust that there is a magical world behind it, and then you go to begin learning at Hogwarts!"

"Well, I guess for us the magical world has always just been the normality. Anyway, Ted...why are you here?"

"Emilia Weasley is going to Hogwarts this year, so we are all coming to the station to see her off."

"When you say, 'we all,' do you mean—"

"The Weasleys, Potters, a few other friends..."

"—squads of Aurors, the Minister of Magic, and a trail of reporters. I'd better hurry and get on the train."

"What? Are you scared of a few Weasleys?"

"A few means less than five."

"Fine, run away then. Have a good term!"

"Good to see you, Ted, and you too, Victoire."

Scorpius strode toward the closest door, catching several glimpses of red hair as he hurried past. Once aboard, he carried his things through the narrow corridor towards the front of the train.

The Hogwarts Express was still mostly empty, a compartment here having a couple of fourth years playing exploding snap and another there with a tiny first year fiddling with her pink hair ribbons. The train had its indissoluble smell: coal from the engine, oiled steel, pasty crumbs and chocolate ground into the red and brown carpet. This would be Scorpius' last start-of-year ride on the train. The thought that after this year, he might never smell that smell again struck Scorpius as impossibly strange.

He arrived in the front carriage, directly behind the engine. Unlike the cars with small compartments along the main stretch of the Express, this car was one large open compartment, with seats for twenty-four: six red, six blue, six yellow and six green. Scorpius was not the first prefect there, one boy in shabby Hogwarts robes was already sitting on a yellow seat.

"Hi, Malfoy." He said, looking up from his Transfiguration textbook.

"Dolohov, you're a prefect?" Scorpius said in surprise. Tony Dolohov had never seemed like the ambitious prefect type, but then, he didn't have much competition in Hufflepuff.

"Yeah..."

"Ok, well, welcome. How was your summer?"

"Good. I worked with my Mum in our greenhouses," Tony said. He and Scorpius had almost nothing in common except for the seldom-spoken fact that they were the only two students at Hogwarts who were children of Death Eaters. "I visited my friend Umar Grymmion."

"Yeah, I know Grymmion. Where does he live?"

"A really nice hut in a marsh..." Said Tony generously, "They have a good vegetable patch."

Scorpius managed not to laugh. "Is it his mum that's a hag, or—"

"His grandma."

"I see."

"And I visited the Potters a couple of times too," admitted Tony bashfully.

Scorpius could have rolled his eyes. Lily Potter had made a project of being friendly to Tony Dolohov, presumably because she felt sorry for him, but it really wasn't very kind because he had a pitifully obvious crush on her. Her friendliness would only make it harder for him when she eventually had to break his heart. Tony was definitely not in Lily's league—not because of his Death Eater father or his soil-stained clothes—but because he was shy, dim, and no good at magic, or Quidditch, or any of the things that Lily was good at.

A couple years ago James and Al had tricked Tony into saying aloud that he loved Lily. If she were ever going to start dating him, she would have then. Instead, she just kept being 'nice' and he kept being pitiful.

"Sounds like a great summer, Dolohov." Scorpius said, and looked out the window. The platform was even more crowded than usual. The whole Weasley extended family (which was as extended as a family could get) was gathered around their youngest, Emilia, hugging and laughing.

"How was yours?" Tony asked politely.

"Fine...I played the piano, and things."

The door opened and two more prefects hauled their trunks through, talking to each other.

"...trays of fried shrimp, cake, an' dancing." said the boy, tossing his mop of strawberry-blonde dreadlocks out of his eyes.

"Truth. If they had shrimp, cake an' dancing, then it would be a proper party." agreed the girl, with a smile that showed unusually sharp teeth.

Scorpius had guessed that the Seonnay twins would be appointed the fifth year prefects for Slytherin; Sebastian and Viola were cleverer than anyone else in their year by a fair margin. They drew attention, perhaps because they looked more alike than fraternal twins naturally should. Ignoring Tony Dolohov, they levitated their things up onto the luggage rack and greeted Scorpius.

"Ahoy, Malfoy."

"Seonnays, good morning."

"An it has been a bonnie warm morning. Did you see the festive company on the platform?" asked Viola, and Sebastian added, "We were wishing they provided refreshments."

"Yes I saw them, and as for refreshments, it looks like they are sharing a bag of Every Flavour Beans." Scorpius watched out his window as Al made a retching expression and Hugo and Roxanne laughed at him.

"Egh, I don' much regret missing _that_." Said Sebastian.

Scorpius smiled, "so, which one of you is Quidditch captain?"

"I am," said Viola, "but I thought it should ha' been you, Malfoy."

"No, I didn't want to be captain. In fact, I told Madame Hooch last May that one of you would do better."

"Did you? We're flattered. 'Twas cruel of Hooch to retire now, though...do you know who's replacing her?"

"Yes. Someone named Terence Higgs; he'll be head of House too."

"Beautiful!" laughed Viola, "he'll want Slytherin to win, sure; he'll let us get away with piracy on the pitch."

The door opened again. "Higgs had better not let you get away with anything," said Zhi Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, "or the rest of us will make sure he gets fired!"

"Too right, we will." agreed two more Ravenclaws that came in with Chang.

Sebastian nudged Viola with an elbow. "I'll bet you a galleon he's harder on us, making sure it doesn't look like he favors us."

"Bet taken." She snapped her fingers.

More prefects arrived in ones and twos until the seats were about half full. A clock in the station began to chime and Scorpius could hear the coal popping in the engine as steam built up.

Gerald Portobello and Cristine Burke rushed into the carriage, out of breath, then looked around. "Oh, I guess we aren't late..." said Portobello.

"Where are the rest?" asked Mabeuf Fortescue, of Hufflepuff.

Scorpius looked out the window again, "They're coming."

The Weasley-crowd parents were hurrying their students onto the train. Rose and Emilia were aboard and waving out a window, but Lorcan and Lysander Scamander were jumping into a door, followed by Molly. Lily was giving a last hug to her Grandmother, Al was helping Lucy, who was having trouble with her trunk, Roxanne was trying to catch her cat, and Hugo was struggling to get out of the headlock James Potter had him in.

The clock chimed 9...10...11...and the train began to whistle.

"That family is so ridiculous." whispered Burke.

"Mental," agreed Portobello, and Burke giggled as if he had said something terrifically witty.

On the platform, James finally let go of Hugo. The last one left, Hugo dashed to the train, leapt on just as it began to chug into motion, and his father Ron sent his trunk flying through the door after him.

The train was away from the station and pushing through London before the prefects they were waiting for filed into the carriage. Scorpius looked at the floor, his lungs feeling suddenly constricted when Rose carried her trunk and owl in, wearing the head girl badge; he had not been in the same room with her since June, and although they had spent most of their fifth and sixth years steering around each other with icy civility, he still wasn't used to it. The reality that they had sat in the library and talked for hours, laughed, kept each other's secrets, held hands, and once—kissed, sat like an erumpent in the middle of the compartment.

Rose stowed her things on the rack and took one of the empty Ravenclaw seats, along with her younger cousin Lucy and friend Lysander.

The last Hufflepuff seat was filled by Molly, while Hugo, Roxanne, and Lily went to Gryffindor.

A Hufflepuff girl shrieked, pointing to the last figure that entered the carriage, and Scorpius burst out laughing. He couldn't help himself, all the tension in his gut from seeing Rose again made him jumpy, and Al had made a spectacular entrance.

Al was already in his Hogwarts robes, his badge had been enlarged to double its normal size, and he was headless.

"The Head Boy, everyone." Scorpius announced, getting his own laughter under control as everyone else caught on to the joke.

"Seriously, Albus?" said Rose, shaking her head but smiling. She stood up, plucked his headless hat off, and said to her now-visible cousin, "now that you have everyone's attention, do you want to start the meeting?"

"Meeting, commence." he said, and sat down.

"Where's your luggage?" Rose asked.

Al pointed his wand at the luggage rack above him, and his trunk and ferret cage appeared. "I hid them." A few fifth years "ooh"ed, but Scorpius knew that disillusionment charms were barely the beginning of the magic Albus Potter could do.

Rose proceeded to call out the prefects' names from an alphabetical list, from Chang down to Zonko.

"Only Zivian Zonko isn't here..." Rose said, making a mark on the parchment.

"She lives in Hogsmeade; she has no reason to ride the train." Said Scorpius defensively.

"I know."

"You aren't taking points from Slytherin for a missed meeting, are you?"

"No, I'm just making a note of it. You'll inform her of this meetings' assignments, right, Scorpius?"

"Yes...Rose," he said. That was strange; he couldn't remember the last time she had called him by name.

"I'm glad all of the rest of you are here. I am looking forward to a great year at Hogwarts, and you prefects play a significant role in taking care of the school and everyone in it. This is a unique year with a new headmistress, two new teachers, and for me in particular, being my last, and the first year for my sister Emilia. I know I'm biased, but I really think she's the sweetest girl in the world and if this isn't a perfect first year for her, I will hex someone." She laughed. Hugo nodded.

Rose doesn't usually talk like that, Scorpius thought. She must be serious.

"Just kidding, of course," said Rose, "but it is important for us to look after the younger students and do everything we can to help Professor Vector and the other professors. Al, do you have any thoughts to start the year with?"

"Just this motto: Refuse fusion with un-irrefutably defused refuse. That's not to be confused with indefatigably infused refuse, with which I would also suggest refusing to fuse."

"That may be refutable." Said Rose with a straight face, and Scorpius had to look away to keep from laughing and making a fool of himself. The Hufflepuff girl that had shrieked when Al came in was looking distressed.

"It's okay Alberta," said Al, "you won't be tested on that. Rose and I are looking forward to a great year and we will do our best as head students."

"That's right. For any of you fifth years who don't know us, my name is Rose Weasley. I like Arithmancy and I spent the summer with my Uncle Bill, working in Turkey for Gringotts."

"Have you decided to be a curse-breaker?" asked Lysander.

"I don't know, but I definitely want to work with goblins."

Cristine Burke sneered, "ew, why would you want to work with goblins?"

"Because I admire their ingenuity and ability to organize. Al, do you want to introduce yourself?"

"Sure. I'm Albus Potter. I found a bright green beetle in my salad at lunch a few weeks ago, and I took it home. It was a green tiger beetle—Cicindela campestris. So if you like beetles, go for a ministry job—their cafeteria is an entomological trove."

Rose grinned. "In other words, he did an internship in the Department of Mysteries, and he likes memorizing irrelevant information."

"And my favorite color is green. So, Rose and I are in charge of prefects' assignments and meeting with the teachers. If you need to discuss anything you can come to us as well as your Head of House.

"There are several things that we need to do today," Al continued, "first, to keep things in order on the train. It's usually calm until we pass the Yorkshire Dales, then third and fourth years start going wild. You know who the hooligans are in your houses, so keep an eye on them."

He looked at Rose and she seamlessly took up where he left off. "When we arrive in Hogsmeade, Al and I are supposed to ride in the front carriage. You can ride wherever you like but I think we ought to have prefects in the last one too...maybe seventh years..."

Other seventh years looked at each other, until Scorpius said, "I'll take the back."

"Thank you Scorpius."

Rose checked her notes. "After the feast we all have assignments. Fifth years, you lead the first years in your houses to your common rooms. Sixth years, go to the library and check in with Mister and Madame Filch, they usually have a few things they need help with..."

"Cracked old squibs," muttered Gerald Portobello to only the other Slytherins, "if they can't take care of things themselves, why haven't they been fired?"

"Perhaps Vector will have them replaced." whispered Sebastian Seonnay hopefully.

"...Al and I have to stay and meet with the staff," said Rose, "but the other seventh years are responsible for seeing that the rest of the students go straight to their dormitories. Does everyone know what to do?"

All the prefects nodded. Mabeuf Fortescue asked, "who are the new teachers, then?"

"The flying instructor is someone named Higgs. I don't know anything about him." answered Al.

Scorpius spoke up, "Terence Higgs. He played Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons. He's Head of Slytherin."

"What about Arithmancy? asked Tino Allegri, a Ravenclaw.

"That will be taught by Rose's mum," said Al, and there was a stir.

A younger Gryffindor said, "Then all your family will be at Hogwarts except your dad?"

"They've found a little house in Hogsmeade," said Hugo. "Dad will probably be in and out of the school sometimes too, which is annoying, but it will be good for Emmie."

"Whatever's best for Emmie." agreed Molly Weasley.

Rose's cousins all nodded with understanding. It seemed like the whole Weasley family would go to the ends of the world for their youngest.

Fortescue pronounced, "I see! Hermione Weasley is leaving the ministry—_that's_ why she arranged the Leading Committee for Communication and Cooperation with Magical Beings."

"Yes, the committee that your uncle Enjolras is on," agreed Rose.

"And our dad," added Viola Seonnay, "which takes him farther south from our island off the Outer Hebrides than he e'er has been. He claims London is too hot and dry," she glanced out the window at the sunny sky.

"And it makes the first time Atlantic Merfolk have had a designated liaison in the Ministry," said Rose with satisfaction.

"What position is your uncle in, Fortescue?" asked Lysander.

"He's the werewolf representative. He was bitten as a little kid, during the war, and he has always advocated for rights." Answered Fortescue.

Cristine Burke shuddered, "bitten by a werewolf...that's horrible!"

Scorpius nodded, "I think I would rather just die quickly than be turned into a werewolf."

"Scor!" Al admonished, "that's a rotten thing to say. You don't mean that?"

"I don't mean anything against anyone with lycanthropy! I agree with werewolf rights and everything, I'm only saying that I personally would hate to be one."

"Even when wolfsbane potion is so available and effective?" asked Lily Potter. "There have only been one or two people bitten in Britain in the last twenty years, because the werewolves' transformations are safe with the potion."

"One," said Rose. She wore a disapproving expression but didn't say anything else. Scorpius didn't understand why they were so offended.

"Anyway, think about that a bit more, Scor," said Al. It wasn't the first time in their friendship that Al had told Scorpius to think more about something.

Fortescue and the others were watching Albus and Scorpius, perhaps expecting more of an argument, but Al turned to the Seonnays.

"A liaison to the Atlantic Merfolk, though, I find very exciting. How do you two think that will effect the wizarding world?"

Viola and Sebastian smiled and looked at each other, but the Hufflepuff girl spoke first. "It doesn't seem as important as werewolf support. I mean, werewolves are part of our community; merpeople are in their own separate world. Do they need to be part of the ministry?"

Rose replied, "Alberta, a generation ago, most werewolves lived in an isolated group. They are members of the community now, because they have become so. If we connect to the merpeople, theirs is a whole world we could open up to learn from."

Sebastian leaned forward. "Weasley is right. 'Tis not a matter of need, but of gain. There are treasures and secrets under the ocean that you have never dreamed of, Alberta Peasegood," he said with an almost predatory smile. Peasegood instinctively clutched Tony Dolohov's arm.

Suddenly, there was a roll of thunder and a rapid pounding of rain on the roof of the carriage. The sky had become dark. The ground rumbled, and the Hogwarts Express careened back and forth on shaking tracks.

**Notes:**

**Thanks to lindahoyland for beta reading!**

**I threw a lot of new characters at you in this chapter. Hopefully they aren't confusing**.


	3. Here Comes One

**3. Here Comes One**

"_Up and down, up and down,_

_I will lead them up and down:_

_I am fear'd in field and town:_

_Goblin, lead them up and down._

_Here comes one."_

_-A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

As the train lurched violently from side to side, Albus stood and pulled out his wand.

"We need to steady the train and find the cause of this. I will go along to—"

"Do you think we can really help?" interrupted Cristine Burke, "I mean, it's a thunderstorm!"

"We had better help, or the train is going to roll off the tracks." insisted Al. "This is not a normal storm; Rose, will you organize a search of the compartments? I will go up to help the driver...from there I think I can cast an inertiastasis charm over the whole train..."

"I will run to the back and conjure more weight there," responded Rose.

Al nodded and left. Rose turned to the rest of the prefects, who were holding on to their seats.

"Stay calm. Most of you, start in the front and make your way toward the middle. Look in every compartment for anything unusual—students trying to do magic, magical objects—and check out the windows. Tell everyone not to worry. I will be moving around, so report to Al. I'll take a couple of you from each house with me to the back." She made a quick selection: "Lysander, Hugo, Lily, Molly, Tony, Scorpius, and...Viola. Let's go."

First they helped the bewildered young lady with the trolley of sweets to stow it securely near the front of the train. "Cranberries and marshmallows, what odd weather for September!" she said, as she picked up scattered peppermint humbugs. Then they moved down the corridor as quickly as they could while holding the walls for balance and quelling the pandemonium around them.

"Everything will be fine. Please stay in your compartments!" Rose called out. "Albus Potter is helping the driver to steady the train."

Sure enough, the train slowed down and its rocking eased.

"No! We should be going faster to get out of the storm!" howled a scrawny Slytherin boy who was blocking their path.

"The train would derail if we went faster. Excuse us, please." Rose insisted.

The boy covered his ears as thunder roared. "You need to tell them to speed up!" he protested frantically.

Scorpius squeezed past Hugo and Lily so he stood in front of the boy. "Go sit down." he said simply.

"Okay, Malfoy." the boy said, and disappeared into his compartment.

Scorpius looked at Rose and shrugged. They continued to stagger toward the back. It seemed like every owl was hooting in distress and cats hissed as they toppled off seats.

A compartment door flew open and a flurry of brown hair dashed out—it was Emilia Weasley, who threw her arms around Rose's waist; and her pet tabby cat, who nestled in between their legs. Emilia was crying.

"Emmie, Emmie, it's okay. It's just a storm," said Rose gently.

"June need her own music player back for her! It's honestly not fair!" Emilia said.

"What?" asked Rose. It was hard to hear with the rain pounding on the roof.

"My very best friend, June, it was hers she had a magical music player. We listening to music, and two big biggest boys came in there and took the player away, and then it just...outside it got thundery and shaky and dark, and it's honestly not fair."

Rose sympathized, "No, it is not fair at all. What did the boys look like?"

"One was sort of medium big, and one was really biggest, and they had noses," she made a ball around her nose with her hand, "and black and green robes on that they were not nice and made June and me really sad on this train."

Rose glared at Scorpius. "Slytherins."

"It sounds like the Erlkonig brothers, they do have big noses," Scorpius guessed, amused by Emilia's description of the Slytherin team beaters, "and they would do something like that..."

"They had better not do something like that again. Not to Emmie." growled her brother, Hugo. "Where did they go, Em?"

Emilia pointed back toward the front.

Rose looked calm, but Scorpius recognized the way she blinked one eye when she was upset. "I need to hurry to the back to help steady the train. Hugo, will you stay with Em and her new friend? Scorpius, go find the Erlkonigs and get the music player back...and tell them...just get it back. Everyone else come with me to search."

Scorpius let the others pass, then started looking for the Erlkonigs. He found them with three other Slytherin boys, toying with a brass device that was about the size of a textbook. It had a trumpet bell on one side that bounced with the sound of snare drum and cymbals, and a tiny mechanical hand that was strumming its fingertips over something that Scorpius had never seen in the possession of any other Hogwarts student: a spinning muggle CD.

_You know I said it's true_

_I can feel the love, can you feel it too?_

_I can feel it oh oh_

_I can feel it oh oh_

The song, which was too contemporary for Scorpius' musical tastes, mixed with the sound of the wind and rain.

Maximus Erlkonig looked up. "'ello, Malfoy. Look at this—you like music, righ'?"

"Yes, I do, but that's not yours."

The boys looked slightly guilty. "We borrowed it to see how it works," said one of them.

"Just having some fun." said another.

"Great fun, I'm sure, but do you know that one of those first years is a Weasley? She has a veritable army of family that you wouldn't want to come down on you...a literal army in fact, if you consider that Harry Potter is her uncle."

"Stuck-up half-mud—" Augustus Erlkonig stopped when Scorpius glared at him.

"Quiet, Gus." said his older brother. "But Malfoy, that there Weasley girl doesn' talk righ'."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. _As if Maximus Erlkonig was an authority on proper speech._

"I'll take it back to them for you," he said, holding his hand out for the player, which they promptly relinquished.

The train was moving slowly and smoothly, and even the storm outside seemed to have softened as Scorpius took the CD-spinning music player back through the corridor. The song had an instrumental break, with a trumpet solo that Scorpius had to admit was pretty good.

He found the compartment where Emilia sat with her head on Hugo's shoulder and her cat curled on her lap. Across from them was another girl, a bit taller than Emilia, showing off a large stack of CDs with titles Scorpius didn't recognize, like "The Rudimentals," "Taylor Swift," and "East India Youth," though he vaguely remembered hearing of the "Beatles" somewhere. She wore brightly colored lipstick (_since when did eleven-year-olds wear lipstick?_) and matching jewelry.

"That's my magic CD player!" she exclaimed, reaching out for it, but Scorpius didn't give it to her. He was distracted by something else.

"Where did you get that necklace? Take it off, quickly!"

"What? No, my mum bought it for me!" The girl grasped the chain possessively. The ground trembled, lightning flashed outside and there was a corresponding spark in the pendant's gleaming stone.

Hugo stood.

"That's a thunder ruby," explained Scorpius, "that is causing the storm. Take it off!"

He tried to take it from her, but she scratched his hands and cried, "I hate Hogwarts! Why does everyone steal my things?" Thunder and lightning were now so thick around the train that Scorpius could hardly see or hear, but he managed to pry the necklace away from the girl, grasp it in his sleeve, and hold it up out of her reach.

Immediately the lightning, wind and rain stopped.

The girl seemed to realize that Scorpius was twice her size, and stopped fighting him. Crying, she eyed his prefect badge warily.

"You see? The storm has stopped. Thunder rubies cause storms when the one wearing them is angry, and you were angry about your CD player."

"Blimey, too loud, that crashing thunder!" said Emilia, while trying to soothe her cat.

"It's okay now." said Hugo. "June, I thought you said your mum is a muggle? Where did she buy something like that?"

"Borgin and Burke's, I think," said Scorpius, "but never mind that. Here is your record player back. I will have to turn this," he looked at the ruby, "in to Professor Vector."

Rose appeared at the door, Lily and Dolohov behind her. Outside the window, the dark clouds had evaporated to whisps and the sky was once again blue.

"What happened?" Rose asked.

Hugo said, "June was wearing that necklace. Malfoy says it's a thunder ruby, that was causing the storm because she was angry."

Emilia added, "Yeah, it has been sparkly sometimes, and June honestly wants it back, because it's hers from her mum bought it."

"Oh. I'm sorry girls, you can't have it back; it's dangerous. Scorpius, are you planning to—"

"—take it to Vector after the feast." Scorpius put it in his pocket.

"Good." Rose sat down next to the girl, who was still crying. "Hi, I'm Rose Weasley, Emilia's sister. Thanks for being a friend to her. What is your name?"

The girl sniffed. "June...Nott."

"Ah, is your father Theodore Nott?" Scorpius asked. She nodded.

"My father knew him—said he hasn't heard from him in years. So, he married a muggle..."

Nott said, "He was tired of the magic world. He said people didn't like him because of something his dad did, so he left to live with muggles, but then I got the Hogwarts letter..."

"Is that all he told you?" Scorpius asked incredulously, remembering that Theodore Nott's father had been a Death Eater, nastier and older even than Scorpius' grandfather, and had died before the Dark Lord in the final battle.

"Yes," she bit her lip, "he wouldn't say what Grandpa did."

Tony Dolohov passed Scorpius with an "excuse me," and sat on the other side of Nott. "It doesn't matter what your grandfather did." he said, "Hogwarts is wonderful and people will be nice to you there."

Scorpius wondered why he would say that; no one had been nice to _Dolohov_ his first year. Little Nott and Emilia listened as Dolohov started talking about the moving portraits, the feasts, the grounds and greenhouses. Rose, Hugo and Lily joined in.

Scorpius didn't have any more interest in crying first years, so he left to show Al the thunder ruby. He met Al in the corridor, with other prefects and students who were wondering how the storm began and ended so suddenly.

"How runs the stream? What happ'nd back there?" inquired Sebastian Seonnay.

Scorpius answered, "Someone brought magic in an object they didn't understand. It's taken care of. I'm going up to our compartment to sit down, if you will let me through."

"Who brought it?"

"What object?"

With a nod of his head, Scorpius invited Al to follow, then he pushed through the crowd and headed for the front of the train. Behind him, Al took charge.

"Sorry, everyone. You'll probably hear more later. The train is picking up speed again, so let's not stumble around the corridor. Prefects, the meeting is finished; thanks for your help. Find seats with your friends now."

Al caught up with Scorpius at the prefects' compartment. The only prefects there were Burke and Portobello, kissing.

"Would you two go do that somewhere else?" Scorpius drawled. They jumped up to leave. _If Grandmother Malfoy saw the way Cristine Burke giggles, she might reconsider her matchmaking efforts_, Scorpius thought.

"So, what happened? Did you see if Emmie is alright?" asked Al.

"Yes, Rose is with her. Rose told me once about the way she is..." Scorpius hoped he was wording the question inoffensively, "...I forgot the name of it..."

"She was born with Down Syndrome." Al explained.

"That's right, that's what Rose said it was. She seems nice." he added for good measure.

"She's amazing: funny, bold, sweet...she does have an attitude sometimes, but it's impossible not to love her. Molly keeps saying Emmie will be in Hufflepuff, but she is definitely a Gryffindor if you ask me."

Scorpius pulled his sleeve over his hand and brought the thunder ruby out of his pocket. He rolled the stone over, looking into its red depth.

"Powerful." observed Al. "Who had it?"

"A first year, Nott. Granddaughter of a Death Eater."

"But you don't think she knew what it was?"

"I'm sure she didn't. It was her mother, a muggle, that bought it for her at Borgin and Burke's."

"What else did you hear at Borgin and Burke's?"

Scorpius threw up his mental guard. There was nothing in the previous conversation that should have prompted that question. Al was looking over his round glasses at Scorpius.

_We can play that game._

Scorpius smiled and looked right into Al's green eyes. Focusing on the way Mr. Borgin had laughed when he said that he sold the ruby to a muggle, Scorpius kept his mind clear of anything about Marcus Flint, the Oni that sold dementor spores, or the poison of despair.

"We heard that they sold a thunder ruby. That's all."

"No it's not."

"Okay, he did say it was to a muggle, but we didn't know it would get to a Hogwarts student."

"You should have reported them for muggle baiting."

"Yeah, I know, but my father didn't want to get involved. What about you, Al? Why was your summer so busy? You kept forgetting to answer my letters."

Al seemed satisfied with Scorpius' story about Mr. Borgin. He broke eye contact.

"Work." Al said, but he was smiling, and the color of his irises appeared to flatten in the way that meant he was hiding something.

"Are you still writing to Katsue?"

"Sometimes."

Scorpius laughed. He had won. "Every day?"

"No! It takes a long time for her owl to fly from Japan."

_No lie there._

"So you could send an owl...twice a week?"

"I wrote about once a month. We were discussing Transfiguration."

"Bluff! You wrote at least twice a week and you were discussing flying off into the sunset together...I knew you were hopeless when you first came back from Japan talking about her." Scorpius teased.

Al laughed. "It's ridiculous that you're better than me. I taught you Occlumency and Legilimency."

"I should have a right to be better than you at _something_."

"You're better than me at music."

"I suppose, but no one cares about that. Besides, I only made it to semi-finals."

"That's really good, isn't it?"

"Sure. That's me: really good, but not quite good enough to matter."

Albus frowned. "You would have made a magnificent head boy, sorry if you're upset about—"

"I shouldn't be upset about it. I mean, how could they have not chosen you? I do wonder if I would have been appointed as head boy, though, if I wasn't in your year..."

"You would, no question! It'll most likely be Hugo next year, and you're a much better student than him."

"That's probably because I study with you."

"Nah, give yourself credit." Al said, standing up to take his ferret cage down and let Ferret out. "As for the piano competition, if you were taking lessons all year instead of coming to Hogwarts, you would be world-class."

Ferret scurried over to Scorpius and sniffed his feet, then climbed his robes and licked his fingers. "I've wondered about that, but I wouldn't trade Hogwarts for the piano." ..._and I wouldn't trade being Al's friend for being head boy, _Scorpius thought, but it seemed too sentimental to say aloud.

Ferret pushed his snout into Scorpius' hands insistently. "Okay, little guy, I missed you too." said Scorpius, and took out his wand. "Want to play?"

The ferret chattered excitedly, and jumped about the carriage, catching bubbles that Scorpius formed from his wand.

"Al, are you really planning to do your project this year?" Scorpius asked.

"Which one? Oh, yes, the project. As soon as possible, yes. I've already been working on it, and so has Katsue."

"You don't mind that it's dangerous?"

"It would be less dangerous if you did it with me."

Scorpius shook his head.

Al said, "We can talk about it more later. How about tomorrow, downstairs?"

"Yeah, alright. During lunch hour." Scorpius sent a stream of bubbles at Ferret.

Al took out his Runes textbook, that he had already bookmarked extensively.

"Read it aloud," Scorpius requested, and Al did.

As the sun set behind Scotland's green rolling mountains, the train arrived in Hogsmeade.

o.o.o.o

"Hey, rich boy."

"Hey, pyro." Scorpius greeted the girl that climbed into the rear carriage. She had short, straight yellow-blonde hair with streaks of green that matched her Slytherin prefect badge. As usual, Zivian Zonko smelled faintly of gunpowder.

"How was your summer?" Scorpius asked.

"It was fine," she said, but Scorpius could tell that she was lying. She looked tired, and he didn't ask further.

The Seonnay twins came to the edge of the carriage. "Might you give place for us here?" Viola asked.

"Yes, come up." Scorpius answered.

Zivian looked at them. "New prefects? I don't remember your names."

Scorpius made introductions, though Zivian didn't seem to be paying attention. The way she kept looking at the thestral harnesses in front of the carriage made Scorpius wonder if she could see the thestrals.

"You live in Hogsmeade, eh? Does your family run a business here?" asked Sebastian.

"We live out on the mountains outside the village; got a pair of mining forest trolls, and we've got a few workshops, so we collect and refine materials for Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

"Do trolls find ore well?" asked Viola skeptically.

"No, they just do the delving and hauling. We've always known where to find coal and sulfur, barium, copper...et cetera..."

"After the feast, we're supposed to make sure everyone goes to their dormitories." Scorpius told Zivian.

"Huh? Oh, sure, as long as we aren't repairing moth-eaten library register notebooks for Madame Filch."

"We will need to be organized. I would hate for some troublemaker to make a fool of Slytherin house on the first night of term."

"Okay." agreed Zivian passively.

Sebastian joked, "perhaps you should just let them gabber and revel through the dungeons, Malfoy,—and find out what this Terence Higgs man is made of."

"Vector would blame us prefects." Scorpius retorted.

"Truth. She is still here, isn't she..."

"So," Scorpius suggested, "instead of trying to follow and herd them all down to the common room, I think we should count the students at our table during the feast, make sure we're the first ones through the Dungeon Door, and then count them again as they come in to the common room. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a good plan." said Zivian.

The four Slytherins fell silent as they watched the line of carriages ahead of them roll through the grand gates of Hogwarts. Within the castle, the windows were all alight with a close, warm glow; while above, the sky was filling with cool-white distant stars. Scorpius automatically turned his gaze southward to his constellation—the scorpion, that treads the night between Libra, the balancing scales, and Sagittarius, the centaur archer. The hook-tailed Scorpius constellation was low on the horizon, as if falling into the dark trees of the treacherous forbidden forest. Scorpius looked forward again at the castle.

They mounted the steps into the castle behind the other students, and hunch-backed old Filch shut the doors after them. In the Great Hall Scorpius was pleased to see that the Slytherin students had left his favorite seat empty for him, in the center of the long table, on the farthest side with his back to the wall and his face to the whole room. As soon as he and Zivian took their seats, the deputy headmaster, Professor Longbottom, stepped up to the front platform in red-trimmed brown robes, and raised a hand for quiet.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" He said sincerely, "I am thrilled to see you students once again, and may I be the first to applaud Professor Vector as our new Headmistress!" He clapped, and the students and staff joined him. Professor Vector inclined her black and emerald-hatted head appreciatively. "In a moment I will lead our first years in for the sorting. Please listen to the Hat and prepare to welcome each new member of your houses!"

People whispered when, among the line of stiff and nervous first years, they noticed Emilia Weasley unabashedly grinning and jumping up and down. She was holding on to June Nott's arm, and while Nott was blushing with embarrassment, Emilia was pointing out each of her cousins in the Great Hall. She waved and mouthed, "Hi, Roxanne! Hi, Lily! Hi,..."

Professor Longbottom smiled and began reading names. A couple of boys were sorted into Slytherin. At the staff table, Professor Vector seemed slightly disapproving of Emilia's buoyancy, and Hermione Weasley was intently putting her finger to her lips and trying to signal her daughter to calm down, but most of the staff were chuckling indulgently.

Scorpius noticed Rose grimace when Nott was sorted into Slytherin. _There goes her sister's 'very best friend' from the train._

Finally Professor Longbottom read aloud, "Weasley, Emilia."

She danced up to the old stool, and sat. The hat was on her head for ten seconds...twenty...a minute. Sometimes it shifted. Emilia closed her eyes and tipped her head as if in thought.

Scorpius remembered the night he had put on the Hat; it had taken a long time with him, too, telling him he would do well in Ravenclaw, but he had only wanted to be in Slytherin. As long as that discussion had seemed, the Hat was taking even longer with Emilia Weasley.

"It's gonna say she doesn' belong at Hogwarts." Maximus Erlkonig whispered loudly.

At the next table Rose heard him and shook her head. She was blinking furiously, trying to look hopeful as she watched her sister.

Under the silent hat, Emilia smiled, and nodded. Scorpius may have imagined it, but he thought he saw the hat smile too.

Then, he certainly didn't imagine it, the hat laughed. It emitted a full, gusty chortle that filled the hall. Then it opened up, and announced: "SLYTHERIN!"

Scorpius leaned forward in surprise. Rose covered her mouth with a hand, and half the Gryffindor table seemed ready to take up arms. Professor Hermione Weasley had her jaw clenched in shock, and Hagrid was scratching his grey bushy head. Longbottom held the hat and stared at it as if it was a three-headed mandrake, but Emilia took no notice. She sprang up and hugged Professor Longbottom, then waved to her mother. Professor Weasley seemed determined not to let her shock ruin the moment for Emilia, so she smiled and clapped. Others joined in. Emilia hopped down from the platform and sat by Nott.

"She is pretty cute..." admitted Cristine Burke.

"Aye, she's got flair." said Viola Seonnay. "I'll claim her for Slytherin, whether she's as good on a broom as her cousins or nay."

Scorpius didn't take in a word of Vector's speech, other than the introduction of Terence Higgs, an unremarkable beady-eyed wizard. He barely noticed the appearance of roasted hams, fruit salad, boiled dill potatoes, baked apples, and dozens of other delicious things. Instead Scorpius watched the raging conversations taking place along the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables. He remembered Al saying that his aunts and uncles had gone into hysterics when Uncle Bill's second daughter was sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. What would they think of this? Scorpius drank some pumpkin juice absently. He hoped that if there was an uproar, Slytherin house wouldn't have to take too much insult. Professor Vector, and Scorpius himself, had worked long and hard to dispel the stereotype of Slytherin as dark and slimy.

While everyone was feasting, Scorpius noticed Professor Weasley discretely slip away from the staff table and down behind the Gryffindor table toward the doors to the entrance hall. As she passed, Rose, Hugo, Al and Lily stood and followed her.

Scorpius watched Emilia. She was sharing chips with Nott and the other first years, happy with her cheeks full of food, nodding at the things her new friends were saying.

"Little Weasley must've had to beg the hat not to put her in Hufflepuff. That's what took so long," laughed Augustus Erlkonig to his third year friends.

Emilia looked up. "No, Hufflepuff is a good house too. My Mummy and Daddy always said to me they would be proud of me in Hufflepuff or any house here. I am the special student of any house lucky to have me!"

She was answered by a splattering of sniggers.

"You must've been adopted. Isn't your dad famous for being tall? And long-nosed? And your mum...she's supposed to be a genius. Did they decide to dress up one of their garden gnomes?"

"Grandpa Weasley likes garden gnomes. He likes they're funny little potato people." Emilia said, still unaware that she was being teased.

"Hey, Erlkonig," answered back one of the first year girls, a thin girl with poker-straight black hair, "I don't know if Hermione Weasley is really a genius, but you aren't, so maybe you should focus on eating. Stick to your strengths."

Augustus scowled. "Yeh be quiet, Scrivenshaft!"

She didn't answer again, just primly poured pumpkin juice for herself and Emilia.

Then Scorpius noticed Al standing near the door. Al caught Scorpius' eye and beckoned for him to come out. Ducking around the tables, Scorpius followed.

There was an agitated discussion going on in the entrance hall. Rose stood with her arms crossed, and Hugo was fraying the sleeve of his robe.

"The sorting hat has never re-sorted anyone in the history of Hogwarts." said Rose's mother, brushing from her eyes a wisp of hair that had strayed from the twist she had put it in.

"It can't hurt to ask, can it?" implored Lily.

Al pulled Scorpius right up to them. "Aunt Hermione, this is Scorpius. He controls what goes on in Slytherin, so—"

"What? I don't—" Scorpius protested in alarm.

"You do!" Al asserted. "Most Slytherins are from pureblood families who have bowed to Malfoys for generations. You're cleverer and better at wand-play than any of them, and they know it."

Scorpius couldn't argue with those statements, but he didn't want to be held responsible for all of Slytherin.

"Scorpius Malfoy," Professor Weasley surveyed him critically. "Albus has assured me that you are responsible and trustworthy."

_Albus did...meaning that if Rose had said anything about him, it wasn't anything so assuring._

"I don't know, I...it's nice to meet you, Professor." Scorpius fell back on protocol, and held out his hand to her.

Her handshake was firm, and her hand was rougher than Scorpius' own mother's, but nonetheless felt surprisingly like a normal hand. There was apparently nothing superhuman about the witch who, at about Scorpius' current age, had helped Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord, and then had revolutionized the Ministry of Magic. With the exception of Lily, Hermione Weasley was the shortest person present.

She said, "Emilia's sorting is...surprising, to say the least...I will be discussing it with Professor Vector, and I would like to consult the hat itself...but—"

"You can consult the hat?" asked Hugo.

"Yes. It will talk to you, if you put it on."

"I never knew that."

"Anyway, if her sorting into Slytherin stands, we will expect some help from you, Mr. Malfoy."

"She shouldn't be in Slytherin!" said Lily stubbornly. "Emmie is not cunning, and not pureblood or ambitious; it's a mistake."

Al agreed with her, "From what I understand about Salazar Slytherin, he would not have chosen Em. The Hat is supposed to sort by whom the founders would have chosen. The way the hat laughed, makes me think it's not doing what it was enchanted to do."

It was Hugo that first offered an explanation for the hat's choice. "You know, Emmie does have strong magic, which Slytherin valued. She's done a lot of accidental magic, and you know the way animals and people respond to her when she gets emotional..."

"It seems like more of a Gryffindor trait." said Lily.

"Maybe," said Hugo, "but she also has a certain talent for getting what she wants from people..."

"By being adorable, you mean?" challenged Rose. It was the first time Rose had spoken.

"Yes, but even so...and on top of that, you have to admit she is ambitious. You've heard her talk about being the next famous singing sensation on wizarding radio. I still want Emmie in Gryffindor, I'm just saying, the Hat could have found reasons to put her in Slytherin."

"If you look at it like that, I think the Hat could put anyone in any house." said Professor Weasley.

"It wanted to put me in Slytherin. Maybe I should have let it, then I could be there for Emmie." said Al.

"As it is, we will need to make sure someone else takes responsibility for her. Being here as a teacher is as much as I can do without being intrusive; she hates being treated like a baby. Mr. Malfoy, I can't ask you to help Emmie find classes or watch her in the girls' dormitory, but it will be up to you to make sure she isn't bullied in the Slytherin common room or by other Slytherins around the school. You have Arithmancy with me twice a week; tell me how she is doing after each class. If there is ever an immediate need, I have Professor Vector's old office."

Scorpius nodded hesitantly.

"I am confident that you will be proactive and use all your influence. I trust that you know the best ways to communicate with the students in your house. Remember, Emmie is extremely important to us." Hermione Weasley gave him an encouraging smile, but he got the impression that she wasn't as confident in him as she sounded.

"Well, everyone, there is a feast going on," she said, and swept away to the doors.

Rose looked at Scorpius for a moment, but said nothing.

o.o.o.o

"Burke, I need your help with something."

Back at the Slytherin table, Gerald Portobello put an arm around his girlfriend possessively.

"What is it, Malfoy?" she asked. She tucked her straight chocolatey brown hair behind her ear and raised her neat, thin eyebrows at him questioningly.

"You said you think Emilia Weasley is cute. Will you help her tonight, to get to the common room and her dormitory?"

Burke nodded. "Yeah, I will."

"Thanks. Try to get there quickly; I'm going to keep everyone else in the common room after you've gone up and talk to them for a minute."

Scorpius supposed that Burke would take good care of Emilia. She had the right sort of gentleness for that type of job, unlike Quidditch captain Viola Seonnay or sulfuric Zivian Zonko.

Emilia happily ran all the way down to the hidden Slytherin Dungeon Door. She pointed at every portrait, statue and suit of armor they passed, and when the stone wall opened into the grand Slytherin common room, she grabbed Burke's arm.

"Cristine! Oh, Cristine, this is honestly the most magical day of my life. Look at the shining green lights, and the windows so pretty—" she pulled Burke down the wide entry staircase and over to the windows.

"Ooh...it's under the water..."

"It's the same lake you went across in boats," explained Burke. "Sometimes you'll see yucky little grindylows, or the squid. Let's go to the girls' side now, and you can choose your bed."

People started following them through the wall.

"Everyone stay in the common room!" Scorpius announced, "I need to talk to you together. Seonnays! Stand by the dormitory doors and keep everyone here, will you? Zivian, do you mind counting? We have 226."

Scorpius paced, planning what he was about to do and say. The Slytherin students might look up to him like Al said, but there would be two hundred twenty-three of them, and one of him.

"How many?" He asked Zivian after a few minutes.

"Still missing two."

"Did you count Weasley and Burke?"

"No."

"They're all here then." Scorpius swallowed, clenched his wand, and climbed up onto the staircase at the entrance. "Sonorus," he whispered, and pointing his wand at his throat for amplification, gave the wand a slight 5 degree clockwise turn.

"Slytherins! Listen. I hope the summer was good for all of you. This is going to be a great year. First years, we are glad to have you. As you noticed, we have a first year named Emilia Weasley. Erlkonigs—Maximus and Augustus—you know the girl I am talking about." Scorpius picked out the two brothers in the group.

They guffawed. "Yeah, why is she in Slytherin?" Maximus jeered.

"Why don't the two of you come up here, and I'll explain it to you."

They looked a little uneasy, but mounted the steps.

"In case anyone didn't hear, the Erlkonigs had some uncomplimentary things to say about Weasley during the feast, and they also bullied her on the train." Scorpius took a long breath. This was hard, but he didn't see how else to make people like the Erlkonigs understand that he was serious.

_limax flavus._

As soon as Scorpius cast the jinx nonverbally, the brothers started to turn pale, and held their stomachs. Then Augustus coughed up a long yellow slug.

"Ewww!" students shrieked. A few laughed. Maximus retched out an even bigger slug.

_finite incantatem. _Scorpius lifted the jinx_. _

"Quiet, please! You need to know some things about Emilia Weasley. She has a special...quality that she was born with. I've heard that it gives her very powerful magic. She may seem small or simple, but don't underestimate her! She ought to be respected and treated well, for several reasons. First, on principle, if you care about principle... Second, I don't know what kind of accidental magic she might do if she gets upset. Third, she is the youngest of a protective family; the Weasleys and Potters have a lot of influence and publicity, and you could make or break your own future career by getting in or out of favor with them. We could all be affected, since we will all be known as Slytherin graduates. If Emilia Weasley is happy in Slytherin, it will be a major benefit to our reputation. Finally, you will all be friendly and helpful to her, because if you aren't, I might not be as nice to you as I was to the Erlkonigs just now."

Maximus glared at Scorpius as he spit out another small slug, his third or fourth. That jinx was sticky.

"By the way, you two...Nott, and Scrivenshaft," the first years flinched. "You were nice to her. Five points each, toward the House Cup. Everyone go to bed, now. Good night."

They hurried away. Scorpius returned his voice to normal and stepped down from the stairs slowly. His pulse was racing; he wasn't sure if that had been a good idea, but it was the best he could come up with.

Zivian Zonko shot him a smile as she exited through the door that led to a long hallway of dormitories. Scorpius crossed the cavernous common room and sat in one of the high-backed green armchairs by the fire. He took the thunder ruby out of his pocket and gazed at it again in the watery greenish light; in all the ado about Emilia, he had forgotten to give it to Professor Vector. He wondered if there was any useful purpose for the tempestuous necklace. There must be, if someone had made it.

The Dungeon Door opened. Scorpius stood up, saw Mr. Higgs, and walked forward to greet him. Mr. Higgs only made it two steps before slipping and bouncing the rest of the way down.

"What is all this slime?" He asked in a naturally loud, robust voice.

"I think those are slugs, sir." said Scorpius innocently.

"Egh-blurg-ey-bothering... Why the blistering bludgers are there slugs on the stairs?"

Scorpius shrugged. "I'm not sure...I'm glad to meet you, Mister Higgs. My name is Scorpius Malfoy."

When Mr. Higgs had straightened himself out, he shook Scorpius' hand.

"Oh yes, Draco Malfoy's son. You look just like him. I believe he put a good word in for me when I applied for this job."

Scorpius nodded. _That's what he would have led you to believe._

Higgs perked up, "And you're our Seeker, too, eh! Excellent. Well, I came down here to tell the students to go to sleep..."

"They went." Scorpius told him.

"And you..." Mr. Higgs hesitated.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows, daring the man to send him to bed.

"...it was good to meet you. I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch soon, eh?"

"Yes sir."

"Good night then."

"Good night, Mr. Higgs."

Those were the last words of the first day of Scorpius' last year at Hogwarts. It would be a year of many lasts, and many firsts.

**Notes:**

**Did you expect Emilia to be sorted into Slytherin? She is a fun and slightly intimidating character to write because I sincerely hope that any readers with Down Syndrome or with loved ones with Down Syndrome will like the way I write her. My little sister, Esther, has Down Syndrome, and she is my main source for the style of Emmie's dialogue, but Emmie is _not_ directly based on Esther (Esther would be in Gryffindor!). Emmie is based on a combination of ten or so people with Down Syndrome that I have known, as well as some imagination. **

**I hope you are enjoying the story!**

**Thanks to lindahoyland for beta reading. **


	4. Something Deeply Hidden

**4. Something Deeply Hidden**

_"Something deeply hidden had to be behind things."_

_-Albert Einstein_

* * *

A crowd of students crossed the Entrance Hall from breakfast towards their first classes. Looking over their heads, Scorpius glimpsed Professor Vector in her usual black and green, speaking to both of Rose's parents. They were watching Emilia climb the marble staircase with her first year friends, and before she turned the corner she looked back at them and waved. They watched her go, and then scanned the other students in the large stone hall. Hermione Weasley leaned close to her tall husband, Ron, and said something. Ron frowned directly at Scorpius. Scorpius looked away.

Vector could be heard as Scorpius passed them, saying, "The Hat is in my office, of course. If you would like to follow me upstairs..."

Outside the Transfiguration classroom, Zivian Zonko walked over to Scorpius and nudged him with her elbow. "Your start-of-term speech in the common room was impressive, rich boy. It wasn't like you."

"What do you mean?"

"Kind of brutal...which isn't your usual style. But I understand, you were under pressure. Did Little Weasley's family talk to you outside of the feast last night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, your limux flavus jinx was effective...and funny; the Erlkonigs looked like overgrown flobberworms with the flu. You probably want to watch your back, though. I heard them talking at breakfast about what they'd like to do to you."

"They can try to do whatever they'd like to me, as long as they leave Weasley alone."

Zivian laughed. Then she stopped; a group of Ravenclaws, including Rose, had come into the corridor.

"Let's go and sit down," Zivian said to Scorpius. "Do we have Transfiguration with Ravenclaw?"

"Yes."

"Blast. Phrome always favors his own students. Let's sit in the back."

"Okay." Scorpius reluctantly took a seat at the back of the classroom among other Slytherin seventh years, while Rose sat in the front. It was almost the exact same places they had sat in Transfiguration during their third year, when Scorpius had first noticed the way Rose cocked her head to one side when she raised her hand to answer a question, and the way she usually sat with her somewhat large feet crossed under her chair.

o.o.o.o

After cleaning up from Herbology, Scorpius hurried to eat some steaming squash stew and a cheese sandwich, and noticed that Al merely ran in to the great hall, stuffed an apple and a roll in his pocket, and ran out again with a piece of chicken in his mouth. Al was always in a hurry to get to work.

On the marble staircase, a commotion interrupted Scorpius. Emilia and Nott each had a foot stuck in the trick stair, and Scrivenshaft was unsuccessfully trying to pull them out, while a couple of second year Gryffindors laughed.

Scorpius pointed at the onlookers. "Ten points from Gryffindor. It was you stuck there last year."

One of them stuck out his tongue, and they ran down to the hall to lunch. Then Scorpius offered a hand to Emilia.

"Here Miss Weasley. Hold my hand, stand on the higher step—steady—and give your foot a good pull."

"I honestly can't pull it out, I don't know why the stairs just sink in so much!"

"Try again."

She tugged, and sighed in frustration.

Roxanne Weasley and Viola Seonnay appeared from a corridor at the top of the stairs. The captains of rival Quidditch teams, it sounded as if they were arguing about scheduling the pitch for the upcoming Saturday, but then they noticed the first years in the trick step and both hurried down to help.

"Here we go, dearie!" Roxanne came up behind Emilia, wrapped both arms under her armpits and heaved her out of the step. Safe on solid ground, Emilia hugged her cousin while Viola lifted Nott out too.

Scrivenshaft complained, "It's the seventh step up and the thirteenth step down...do you seriously have to count every time you take the stairs?"

"Nay," answered Viola, "you'll come to know by instinct."

Scorpius added, "I look at the marble columns at the side. The column that has the swirl that looks like a top hat is next to the trick step."

"I've noticed that there is a big chip out of the edge of the stair two above it," said Roxanne. "So you step on the chipped stair, and then the next one, and then jump. Or, if you start on the landing and take them all two at a time, you'll miss the trap."

Scorpius nodded, "Right. See you later—"

"Wait, Malfoy," interrupted Viola, "can you come out first thing Saturday morning to help choose our new Chaser?"

"Yes. What time?"

"Starting at seven," said Viola.

"—and ending before two," added Roxanne stubbornly.

Viola shook her strawberry blonde dreadlocks and showed her sharp teeth. "We can't set an ending time; we don't ken how long t'will take to find the right player!"

Nott and Scrivenshaft edged away and beckoned for Emilia, but she was still attached with her little arm around Roxanne.

Roxanne laughed humorlessly. "Do you really think you'll need all day? Yours is not the only team here."

"Gryffindor's team is still complete from last year, an' you can bide delay until November. It's Slytherin versus Hufflepuff first in October, so we have priority."

"Yeah, Slytherin!" Emilia piped. She made a snake motion with her arm, wiggled it up and pinched Roxanne's nose with her fingers. "Sssssss!"

Scorpius and Viola grinned.

"Emmie!" Roxanne laughed. "Okay...how about...my team takes the pitch early in the morning. We can finish at eight thirty. Then it's yours for as long as you need it."

"Eight thirty." Viola agreed, and the five girls headed to lunch while Scorpius ran upstairs.

He stopped in a corridor, and when it was empty, Scorpius entered the girls' lavatory and closed the door quickly.

"Ooooh, it's Malfoy," moaned the ghost that floated out of a stall.

"Hello Myrtle," Scorpius droned sympathetically, "terrible summer, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was dreadful."

"Beastly...but it is a consolation to see you."

She smiled sadly.

Scorpius found the sink he was looking for, and ran his fingers over the cold engraved snake on the tap.

"_Sschaiahasieth_," he muttered.

Nothing happened.

"Potter says it with more S." Prompted Myrtle.

Scorpius tried again, "_Ssschaiahasssieth_," still with no result.

Once more, he hissed, "_Ssschaighahassieth_." This time, the tap glowed and spun. The sink drew back with a rumble of stone on stone, revealing a dark chute and three hooks attached to the inner side. On two of the hooks hung old Cleansweep brooms. Scorpius took one and descended astride it into the tunnel.

There were occasional sconces burning white in the large passage, lighting the twists and turns. Scorpius saw them as blurs as he sped downward. He rode his broom past connecting pipe openings that echoed with dripping noises, lower and lower, and he began to hear voices ringing below.

The sound gradually became clearer, a choir of singers whose pure Latin vowels blended together like light and gold. The music was full of close intervals, major seconds, stretched out with a sense of glory in dissonance.

Scorpius had begun to make out words as the tunnel leveled out and he flew into a stone entryway.

"Lux, Calida gravisque..."

He recognized the song as Whitacre's "Lux Arumque." A single soprano voice floated above the choir, as Scorpius landed and walked along the clean, torch-lit entry hall and through a pair of large open doors.

Flag stone floors, limestone troughs of water, rows of serpentine patterned pillars, and walls hung with enough torches to light every corner, extended beyond the doors to the end of a grand chamber. High above there was a stone ceiling, and at the end sat a gigantic green limestone statue of Salazar Slytherin sitting with his hands on his knees.

Between the statue's robe-draped feet, a large chest with drawers and a sousaphone-sized bell attachment amplified the choral music from a CD that spun on top of the chest.

"...pura velut aurum..." the echoing recorded voices sang.

Between Slytherin's hands, a large wooden sign proclaimed boldly, 'Albus Severus Potter's Chamber of Discoveries'.

Under that title, the words 'and Rose Marian Weasley's,' were added in neat print. Below that, 'and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy's,' was squeezed in.

Various desks and tables stacked with drawings on parchment, empty cauldrons and magical devices sat between the pillars, and in the center of the room stood Al. He had both arms out and his long elder-wood and phoenix feather wand raised. He was slowly turning in circles, pulling what looked like gauzy grey vapor out of the ceiling and walls themselves. The strands floated in toward each other, meeting in a cottony mass that spun above Al's head.

"What are you doing?" Scorpius asked, "making a rain cloud?"

"No," said Al, "though that might be a good way to mop. I'm cleaning out the cobwebs."

"Oh." Scorpius replied with distaste. "What can I help with?"

"There are some new leaks—see those puddles?"

"Yeah. I'll plumb them in." Scorpius climbed on his broom again and flew up to the ceiling where drips were falling. He cast the channeling charm that Rose had found in a gardening book, and formed a path from the source of the leak, across the ceiling and in to another channel that ran down to a stone trough. While working, he talked to Al.

"We have Defence and Runes together this afternoon. Professor Fenwick will start with a safety review, as always," Scorpius predicted, "but you never know what Professor Babbling will talk about."

"I hope she gets straight to Runic enchanting! Four years studying the meanings of the symbols and practicing translation...it's about time to start using the magic in them."

"Of course, you and Rose have already been trying it. Did you inscribe anything during the summer?" Scorpius said as he fixed the last leak from the ceiling and flew down.

Rose answered unexpectedly from the entryway, "No, I was in Turkey, and Al was too busy playing with stuffed owls."

Scorpius said, "Hello, Rose," but gave Al a look that said, _you didn't tell me she was coming._

She walked up the chamber with the air of someone meeting a hippogriff. "Scorpius," she said, facing him directly.

"Yeah?"

"Things have been awkward, since we stopped dating, which is at least half my fault, I know..."

Scorpius just stared at her, not sure what she wanted him to say.

Rose continued, "...but I'm hoping we can put past feelings aside and treat each other like normal people this year. I know Al is tired of trying to distribute his time between us, and with Emmie in Slytherin, I want to be able to communicate with you. Do you agree?"

Scorpius nodded. "That's fine with me...so we pretend it never happened?"

"It happened. We were really young. It ended, now we're older and smarter, and can deal with each other reasonably, I believe. So Al, will you be ready to become an animagus after taking the N.E.W.T.s?" She moved on to another topic as easily as she moved her long thick braid behind her shoulder.

Scorpius didn't know whether to celebrate or dread this idea of a "normal" relationship with Rose. On one hand, it stung when she talked about their past romance as if it had been an inconsequential childhood mistake, and Scorpius wasn't as prepared to abandon his feelings for her as she seemed to expect. On the other hand, if acting like he didn't care meant spending more time with the wittiest, wisest, and possibly prettiest girl he knew, he was willing to put on the act. It would be nicer than constantly avoiding her.

Al smiled at Rose. "After the exams? No way! I've got the theory and the anatomy memorized, having 'played with stuffed owls' all summer, as you put it. I'm ready now."

"That's great," she answered, "but you _will_ wait until you can do it legally, right? You need to achieve an 'Outstanding' N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration, and then work with an experienced animagus."

"The Japanese ministry doesn't require all that. Katsue is doing it now, so I am too." Albus lowered his cottony cloud of cobwebs onto a table, and started putting it into jars to use in potions later.

"How long do you plan to keep it secret? Don't you think people will find out?" Scorpius asked.

"After I have my N.E.W.T.s I'll tell them. Imagine my parents' faces when I fly in with a letter from myself..." Al laughed, "the ministry will charge me a fine for late registry, but I saved up enough galleons for it during the summer."

"You're crazy, Albus, but at least you plan ahead." Rose said. "If I were you I would want to wait a year, and have help from an animagus like Minerva McGonagall or Rolf Scamander."

"That's where you two come in," said Al. "The most dangerous part isn't transforming into the animal; it's keeping your sense of human self strongly enough to transform back. If two or more wizards transform together, they help each other."

"How?" Scorpius asked.

"Colligation of combined consciousnesses," Al recited casually.

Rose explained, "The magic behind it is complex, but basically if multiple witches or wizards transform together, they're less likely to forget themselves and turn wild. That's why werewolves used to gather in a tight community; they could transform all together and retain a little bit of humanity, at least enough not to go on rampage and wake up the next day in a forest miles away. There have been under-skilled animagi who transformed alone and couldn't transform back until their friends found them over a decade later."

"Pettigrew, yeah..." Scorpius remembered, "but sorry, Al. I'm not doing it. I don't want to be an animagus."

"Why on earth not? I think it seems so fun, to fly on my own wings..."

"It'll be grand for you, I'm sure, Al, but personally it makes me queasy to think of being anything but human."

Rose sniffed with disapproval and turned to examine one of Al's magical devices, a glass cylinder holding swirling clouds and tiny glowing models of the sun and moon that slowly rose and sunk over rocky model terrain.

"Rose?" Scorpius asked tentatively. He knew that Rose would speak forthrightly on the most sensitive topics, but only if she deemed it important enough, and after thoroughly considering how to say what she wanted to say. When she turned away like that, it generally meant she had something on her mind.

She spoke to Al, "Oh... I don't want to become an animagus this year either. Even when I can legally, I probably won't; an otter isn't as useful as an owl."

Al voiced what she had probably been thinking. "Why does being part human bother you, Scor? What you said on the train about werewolves—"

"We're talking about animagi."

"—You said you would rather die than be a werewolf. Why?"

"Al, we were talking about animagi." Scorpius reiterated.

Al and Rose just looked at him, patiently waiting for an answer. The CD on the player came to its ending and stopped, leaving the chamber silent.

"I don't know. It just seems horrible, changing into a dark creature every month."

"What makes it seem so horrible?" asked Al socratically.

"I've heard they get really ill—not just on the night of the full moon, but for a whole week around that time, and that the change hurts a lot."

"Potions help," said Rose.

"I would still prefer it over death. Is there any other reason?" asked Al.

Scorpius sighed. "I know you want me to admit that I have a subconscious bias...or would hate to be looked down on by witches and wizards like my grandparents. Maybe that's true. I'm not intolerant, though; I have more muggle friends than either of you. I know that werewolves shouldn't be looked down on."

"Okay, Scor. Just making sure you thought that one through. Catch!" said Al, and chucked a finished jar of cobwebs at Scorpius, who caught it and ran it over to a cabinet by the wall.

"Keep them coming." Scorpius said, and caught several more jars. He remembered that Quidditch season was starting and he hadn't practiced with a snitch all summer.

Rose got on her broom, and traced an invisible line from the glass model-weather cylinder up toward the ceiling. "Aha, here's the broken point. Have either of you looked at this yet?"

"No," Scorpius answered, "we just—" he stopped with a gasp, as a sudden motion on a nearby table caught his eye.

"What?" Rose started.

"Petrificus totalus!" Scorpius shot, and then breathed again.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look at the motionless thing on the table. It was only a common knut-sized spider, but spiders of any size reminded him of the most horrifying moment of his life—the dark forest, his arm pierced and cold with spreading venom, while James Potter, Albus, and Rose fought back a bear-sized acromantula. He had been fourteen. Professor Hagrid had arrived just in time and called his pet Pegasus, Polly, who had borne Scorpius, with Rose, directly up through a window to the hospital wing.

Scorpius was still staring at the spider.

"Would you like me to remove it?" Al asked.

"No, I can do it myself." Scorpius gingerly swept the spider onto the floor and stepped on it. "Sorry, what were you saying, Rose?"

"I was saying, I think the problem with the sky is that the bewitching spell has disconnected from Al's cylestiander while we were away."

Al nodded. "We'll have to repair that tomorrow, it's almost time for Defence Against the Dark Arts. I will just finish canning the cobwebs..."

Scorpius looked around the chamber for anything else that needed cleaning or fixing. The floor needed mopping, but Scorpius wasn't in the mood. He wandered over to a space between two pillars, where he had transfigured a table (taken from an unused classroom, shrunken to carry down the chute, and then re-enlarged down in the chamber) into a rough grand piano. Next to it was a large shelf of sheet music, and Scorpius pulled out a piece of Debussy called "la cathedrale engloutie."

He sat down and put his hands on the keys.

"Oh my! It _is_ time to go," announced Rose. "We only have fourteen minutes."

Scorpius left the music on the stand and ran to his broom. He followed Rose out the doors, while Al extinguished the lights behind them. Up through the pipe they flew as quickly as smoke in a chimney, with Al snuffing out each of the lights as they passed.

o.o.o.o

Most of Scorpius' classes began where they had left off in sixth year with nothing extraordinary (even the destructive multicolor explosion that Zivian Zonko produced out of the love potion antidote that Professor Clearwater assigned them to brew was a typical event). The exception was Arithmancy. When Scorpius entered the first Arithmancy class five minutes early with Al and Rose, he found that Professor Vector's heavy emerald curtains and sparse decor had been abandoned in favor of sunlight from large uncovered windows and rows of gold-framed Numerology, Prognotistics, and Grammatica reference charts along the opposite wall. The back of the room was lined with cupboards and bookshelves, and in front, on a red velvet cushioned stool sat a very young looking house-elf.

The elf had big blue eyes, wore a yellow dress with puffy sleeves, and swung her feet, wearing clean black slippers, back and forth in the air. When she saw them, she squealed and jumped down off the stool.

"Rosie!"

Rose knelt and held out her arms. The elf ran and jumped into them, and Rose whirled her around.

"Kreah," laughed Al, "I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I came along to see the castle when Mr. Weasley came to talk to the Headmistress this morning. I hope your first few days have been good, Albus, and...you must be Scorpius. Rosie has told me about you."

Scorpius was surprised and impressed—'I,' she had said, and 'have been,' and 'has told me.' He had never heard a house elf speak so well.

"Oh, um, yes. I am Scorpius, and Rose has told me about you as well, Kreah. She speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you..." squeaked Kreah, but with hesitation. She looked out the window as if worried about something.

"What's bothering you?" asked Rose.

"It's only...when I visited the Hogwarts elves in the kitchen, they said it was shameful for me to be free and get paid by a family, and that it was even worse to work for the ministry...speaking my opinions to witches and wizards."

Sounding concerned, Rose answered, "Mum and Dad did warn you that might happen. You're wonderful, Kreah, whatever others may say."

"I suppose I expected...I expected them to be downtrodden or unhealthy or something. They seemed so happy, all together, and mostly older than me, so it makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Rose asked gently.

"If they might know better than I do, and how can I represent them to the ministry, when they don't want me there?"

Scorpius realized Kreah must be a part of Hermione Weasley's new committee. She certainly seemed young for the responsibility, even if she was better educated than most elves. She was even younger than himself, he was fairly sure.

Rose bit her lip. "Hmm, those are serious concerns, but I still believe you are doing the right thing. It's up to you, of course. If you feel overwhelmed in the committee, you know that you can resign any time."

"Yes, I know...Mrs. Weasley did tell me, but she so wants an elf on the committee, and no one else volunteered."

"I think you'll be brilliant," said Albus, as the three students chose desks near the windows in the front. Scorpius' habit was to sit behind Al while Rose sat in front of him, so they could both talk to Al without talking to each other, but supposedly they were normal friends now, so Scorpius broke the pattern and sat next to her.

Then Rose asked Kreah, "Did you hear what Professor Vector said to Mum and Dad, about Emmie? Did they consult the sorting hat?"

Kreah shrugged. "I wasn't there, but Mrs. Weasley told me Emmie will stay in Slytherin. I hope Em is comfortable down there...is it really a _dungeon_?"

"The other elves could show you our common room, I'm sure," stated Scorpius. "I've found it quite comfortable, and Emilia seems to love it so far."

"Is it warm enough?" asked Kreah.

"Yes; it's cool in warm weather, but in the winter it's much warmer than the towers. Think of it as well insulated."

Al considered, "I've seen rats in the dungeon corridors, do you ever have—"

"No we do not have rats! It's clean, and the dormitories are full of cats anyway."

"I suppose that's better than Ravenclaw," said Kreah, oblivious to Rose trying to shush her, "Rosie says they have bats and birds roosting in their tower."

"Gross," Scorpius teased.

"I rather like them," said Rose loftily, "birdsong is nice in the morning."

Three more Ravenclaws and one more Gryffindor student entered the class. Kreah patted Rose's hand and whispered, "I should go now. Hogwarts elves is not being seen."

"What?" Rose scowled.

"Sorry, I mean, they say we shouldn't be seen around the castle. Goodbye!" Kreah said, and disappeared with a snap.

Al shook his head. "It sounds like the Hogwarts elves might be a bad influence on her."

Rose shook her head. "They're not bad, just set in their ways. Kreah will have to come to terms with traditional elvish culture...but I do hope she doesn't start talking like them."

"How old is she anyw—" Scorpius began to ask, but stopped when the classroom door flew open and Hermione Weasley strode in, wearing deep plum-colored robes and carrying several scrolls of parchment.

"Good afternoon. Quietly get out quills and ink, please, and put your books away."

Scorpius, who had had everything ready on his desk, stowed Eratosthenesian Calculeux in Design and Advanced Grammatica back in his bag.

With a flick of her wand, the scrolls soared from Professor Weasley's arm over their heads, to land one on each of the seven students' desks.

"When I say 'begin,' unseal your parchment. You will have 40 minutes to complete this assessment. You may refer to the charts, but not to each other." She set a large hourglass on her desk, and said, "Begin."

_Merlin! _Scorpius thought as he broke the wax seal, _even Vector or Phrome wouldn't give a quiz until the second day of class. No introduction, no syllabus, just 'Good afternoon' and a fifty-question exam._ That gave him less than a minute per question. He rolled through the scroll and saw that some of the calculations would take longer than a minute, so he tried to hurry through the first questions.

'Who was the earliest known Arithmancer? A) the Greek Eratosthenes, B) the Norse Udric, C) the Indus Valley Dhavira, D) the Chinese Lao Ming.'

Dhavira was certainly the oldest of the options, but Scorpius was fairly sure she had only dealt in potions and charms, not Arithmancy, so he circled 'D) Lao Ming.'

'Which of the following is not one of the main branches of Arithmancy? A) Prognotistics, B) Numerology, C) Calculeux, or D) Grammatica.'

Numerology was not a main branch, but the set of rules and operations that was used in all of the branches, so he circled B).

'A skilled prognotistician will be able to predict the future more definitively than a skilled Seer. A) True, B) False.'

Scorpius hesitated on that one, because Prognotistics, by definition, only told the probability of something happening, while Divination claimed to tell what assuredly would happen. A prognotistic statement was always true ('you have .02 chance of becoming minister of magic' would still have been true whether the outcome fell within the .02 chance or outside of it. Whatever actually ends up happening, there was still the .02 chance), but a true Seer's prophecies always came true as well. _Didn't they? _Scorpius wondered. Then he remembered that Rose considered Divination nonsense, and he supposed that her mother would feel the same. Besides, teachers always liked their own subject best. He marked A) True.

For the next ten minutes he worked through Prognotistics problems. He used the proportional summer growth of a hypothetical sample of Rowan trees to predict with 95% confidence that the winter snow would reach between 20 and 27 centimeters, and he used the brightness and closeness of Jupiter and Venus on the night of a hypothetical witch's birth to forecast with 87% certainty that she would make less than 3000 galleons a year, which was more than two standard deviations below average. _Poor witch,_ he thought. All of the problems used operations Vector had taught them in fourth or fifth years and Scorpius had very little difficulty with them.

'List at least two constructive uses for Calculeux.'

Scorpius scribbled, 'designing magical objects,' and 'measuring strength of spells.' He could have thought of more, but the exam only asked for two.

In the following section of the exam the graphs and calculations became more complex, and after the first two or three problems they were beyond what Vector had taught in sixth year. Scorpius hoped he wasn't the only one who left several problems blank.

As he rolled through his scroll to the questions about Grammatica, Scorpius noticed that more than half of their time had passed. He had about half of the exam still to do.

'List the seven categories of energies used in spells in order from least to most intense.'

Scorpius wrote, 'jinx, charm, bewitchment, hex, curse, enchantment...' It was only six. Scorpius didn't waste time trying to remember the seventh category, but moved on.

'Name at least five spells that combine grammatical and extra-grammatical magic.'

_Ah yes!_ Scorpius realized that the seventh category of magical energy he had forgotten was the variety (or varieties) known to arithmancers as 'extra-grammatical' magic. It was a miscellaneous grouping of energies with which witches and wizards could, like other magical species, perform wandless and wordless magic. That didn't apply to regular spells cast nonverbally, since those still relied on the incantation being thought, but true wordless magic, done when one might not even know an incantation. Types of extra-grammatical magic were also needed for certain spells that didn't work with the incantation and wand motion alone. He inserted 'extra-grammatical' before 'jinx' at the beginning of his list for the previous question, and then listed spells, 'Summoning Charm, Legilimency Enchantment, Mobility Bewitchments, Riddikulus Anti-Hex...' Scorpius hesitated. The Unforgivable Curses were obvious answers for this question, but he was reluctant to write any of them. He didn't want Professor Weasley to think he had any interest in dark arts. He tried to think of another spell that needed special focus combined with an incantation.

"Mr. Malfoy, please stop tapping on your desk." Professor Weasley called from the front of the room.

"Sorry, Professor." Scorpius had been fingering arpeggios subconsciously, and he stilled his fingers.

He finished his list with 'Patronus Charm,' and then continued working through the exam. He answered questions about spell-particle models, sketched diagrams of spell-particles and described how their energy was released in various ways when they hit their targets, and began some long calculations of spell effects based on the components of Grammatica.

The problems got progressively harder. Scorpius got stuck trying to calculate how the moderate emphasis on the fourth syllable of 'tarantellegra' changed the formation pattern of the spell-particle made by the first three syllables. He wasn't sure if Vector had taught them that. He glanced at the hour-glass. The time was almost up, and he still had nine problems left. Rose, from the look of her scroll, was closer to finishing.

"Malfoy."

Scorpius was startled by Professor Weasley, who warned, "This may only be a pre-test, but if you wish to stay in my class, keep your eyes on your own parchment."

"Yes," he promised.

Embarrassed, Scorpius attempted to bury his nose in his exam. _What was I thinking, sitting in the front? I should have sat behind Al._

He tried a few more problems but didn't finish any before their time ran out.

"Quills down," Professor Weasley announced, and then levitated all of their scrolls up into a neat pile on her desk.

"I will check your exams before our next class. The Prognotistics in this exam was similar to what you might see on your N.E.W.T., and if you already know it well as Professor Vector told me you would, we will spend very little time on Prognotistics this year. We will focus on Calculeux in the context of design, and move beyond grammatical spell analysis to creating original spells. I hope to prepare you well, not only for the exam, but to use Arithmancy productively in your lives and careers. As you may know, the N.E.W.T. requirements include a project as well as a written examination. Your projects will take a significant amount of time and work to meet N.E.W.T. standard, so we will start them right away. I will discuss the requirements with you next week, and then you will need to have a proposal submitted and approved by mid-November."

With that, Hermione Weasley dismissed the class. Al and Rose left their things at their desks in a hurry to congratulate her on her first lesson. Scorpius followed their other classmates—Narayanan, Poe, Dippet, and Allegri—toward the door. However, Professor Weasley asked him to stay before he could get away. He braced himself and walked up to her.

"Professor, I wasn't cheating when I glanced at Rose's scroll, I was just curious how far she was in the exam, because the time was almost up and I wasn't very close to finishing."

She waited for him to finish talking, then said, "Hmm. I will trust you this time, but I want to know how Emilia is doing."

"Oh!" Scorpius had forgotten that he was supposed to talk to her about that after each Arithmancy class. "She seems happy. She got stuck in the trick step of the grand staircase the other day, but every first year does..."

"Mum, what did Professor Vector say?" inquired Rose.

Al asked, "Did you put on the Sorting Hat?"

"Professor Vector told me she wasn't willing to break the long-standing Sorting Hat tradition in her first week as headmistress, and she also seemed sure that Emmie could settle in well in Slytherin. I trust Septima Vector; she was a good teacher. The Hat...the Hat said that things are changing. It admitted that today's Slytherin house is not what Salazar Slytherin planned, but that if pure-blood supremacy or interest in the dark arts were requirements, there would currently be only three or four students in Slytherin. To keep the houses balanced, the Hat has been using other qualities, like ambition or magical aptitude, to sort students into Slytherin for several years. It seemed quite pleased with itself for being able to negotiate its enchanted instructions so far as to send students to unlikely houses, especially Emmie."

"What Slytherin qualities did it say she had?" asked Rose.

"It didn't specify...but I suppose Hugo made some valid points; Emmie has her little way of charming people, and animals, to do what she wants. She has strong and unique magic."

"Hm." Rose pursed her lips.

Professor Weasley folded her arms in a businesslike manner. "And so it seems, her sorting is set in stone—a fitting metaphor, considering the dungeon dormitories..."

Scorpius smiled. She addressed him. "Can you guarantee to me that she won't be bullied?"

"With...ninety-seven percent confidence, Professor."

Al laughed. "Where's your data?"

"Where? In our common room, I guess," said Scorpius. "I talked to everyone."

"Ninety-seven percent is decently confident," said Professor Weasley, "and it might be unrealistic of me to expect all hundred percent from you, Mr. Malfoy, so how can we account for the other three percent? What do you know about those two friends of hers, June, and Alexis?"

"June Nott is the daughter of Theodore Nott—you would have known him, Professor—but she grew up in the muggle world. She seems a bit clueless, but nice enough."

"Hmm..., and Alexis?" asked Hermione Weasley.

"Scrivenshaft?"

"I think so. The one with black hair."

"Well, she stood up for Emmie during the opening feast. She seems proper and straight-faced, and a bit sarcastic. I think her family runs the quill and ink shop."

"Keep an eye on them for me, Mr. Malfoy."

"I will." He said, but wondered how he was going to watch over Emmie all the time, when it was his N.E.W.T. year and he would rather be in the Chamber of Secrets, studying and playing the piano.


	5. Its Own Identity

**5. Its Own Identity**

"_How adequate unto itself_

_Its properties shall be_

_Itself unto itself and none_

_Shall make discovery._

_Adventure most unto itself_

_The Soul condemned to be —_

_Attended by a single Hound_

_Its own identity."_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

Orange sunlight shot down in dancing shafts through the lake's water on Saturday morning, filtering through green seaweed and into the Slytherin dormitory where Scorpius and one of his dorm-mates, Jack Stopper, were waking up and getting ready for the Quidditch try-out.

Decked in their gear, but still rubbing their eyes, they walked out into the common room.

A group of third and fourth years was crowded around Gerald Portobello in a corner of the common room. One of them, a boy with pointed eyebrows and a jerky, bouncy walk, broke away from his friends and anxiously joined Scorpius and Jack to go through the wall doors.

"Hi Malfoy, and Stopper...I'm Vaughn Drang. I'm a third year." said the boy breathlessly. "I'm trying out for the team. I really want to play, I mean I _really_ want to play. I've practiced every day of the summer, for two or three hours a day. How much did you practice in the summer?"

"Yeah...a couple of hours a day of practice," said Scorpius coolly. _Of piano practice..._

"Um, once a week, maybe." said Jack.

"I'm flying on a nimbus...it's kind of old. Your brooms look amazing." Vaughn Drang looked at their Definitive Firebolts longingly as they walked through the dungeons. "That's the Firebolt Seeker, and that's the Keeper?"

Jack smiled and held out his broom to the younger boy. "Yeah, Malfoy's parents bought the whole team set when he got onto the team second year, so if you get the position, you'll be on a Firebolt Chaser."

"Oh man. Can you see the differences?"

"Yep," said Jack. "Look, mine is shorter and thicker than Scorpius', with more weight at the tail because I have to be able to keep steady and switch directions fast, while his is all for speed and sudden changes of altitude. The Firebolt Keeper is the slowest of the team set, but I'll bet it's still faster than your old nimbus."

"What about the Firebolt Chaser?"

"It's shorter than the Seeker but longer than the Keeper...about the same length as the Beater but lighter. The Chaser loops and swerves really well." Jack explained animatedly, happy to have found someone who was just as eager to hear about the team brooms as Jack was to talk about them.

They reached the entrance hall. "Can you give me any advice for the try-out?" Drang pleaded with the seventh year Quidditch players. "For a sickle?"

"Um, don't let the other guys past you," said Jack.

A sickle wasn't an impressive bribe to Scorpius, but there was no sense in not taking money when it was offered. "Viola Seonnay will be looking for someone who knows tactics, and who can follow her

and her brother's lead. They're twins so they work together in a specific way as Chasers, and the third Chaser will have to fit in with them."

Drang nodded and grinned, saying, "Thanks!" and handing them each a sickle. "It's gonna be awesome if I make it..." but Scorpius sensed something sneaky behind the boy's voice.

Scorpius stared at Drang's eyes, and asked, "Did you buy a—"

Drang quickly turned away, said "see you, bye!" and ran to take breakfast at the far end of the Slytherin table.

Outside, a few members of the Gryffindor team lingered in the stands. Emilia and her first year friends sat with them, and Mr. Higgs had turned up with a pack of butterbeer and a kettle of popcorn.

Viola sent the fourteen candidates flying laps around the pitch. She hovered in the middle, along with the team: Sebastian, Jack, Scorpius, and the Erlkonig brothers. "Watch their form, not their mere speed," she said, "an' if there be one that passes others dexteriously or one that knows how to block others from passing them, point them out to me."

After only a few minutes there was a clear separation between two groups of flyers. Half of them were going much faster than the rest. Vaughn Drang was in the middle of the faster group, trying to elbow his way past the witch beside him.

Viola called them down. She marched up to the sixth year that had been in the lead, and hovered a few inches up on her broomstick so they were nose to nose.

"You smell like burnt doxie wings. You took of a speed potion—true?"

The sixth year shook his head.

"You did, no jot;" Viola contended, "I know the odor well. Say something. Tell me how to do the Porskoff Ploy."

For a moment the sixth year looked desparate, but he opened his mouth and said in a fast, squeaky voice, "that's where two Chasers corner one of the other team and—"

Vaughn Drang interrupted him in a perfectly normal voice, "No, the Porskoff Ploy is one Chaser passing the Quaffle to another Chaser below them. You two used it to get past Hugo Weasley last year." He nodded to Viola and Sebastian.

Viola looked impressed. "Drang is your name, aye? An' you were fast, but didn't drink a speed potion?"

"Nope, I didn't," said Drang proudly, deception in his eyes. "Portobello was selling them in the common room this morning, but I thought I could do fine without."

"He's lying," said Scorpius. "We can't have someone on the team that cheats in games or we'll be penalized. They should be disqualified now."

Several squeaky voices protested.

"Drang doesn't smell like the potion," said Sebastian.

"I didn't take it!" Drang insisted.

Scorpius pried for details by pointing his wand from inside his pocket and silently forming the word legilimens as he stared at Drang. Without the spell, he could tell that Drang was lying, but with the spell he could try to pull pictures of memories and specific thoughts. Scorpius wasn't perfectly skilled at it, but some people were easier to understand than others.

In a few seconds Scorpius knew, "His voice is normal because he didn't overdose on the potion, and he ate mints to cover the smell."

Drang held his forehead in his hands with a disoriented scowl. "Merlin spitting rattlesnakes! What did you do, Malfoy?"

"It's called Legilimency."

"Never heard of it," said Jack.

"I've heard my father name it...'tis like to mind-reading...is it valid, of a truth?" Sebastian asked curiously.

Max and Gus snorted skeptically.

Mr. Higgs yelled across the pitch, "Less talk, more flying! Come on, up! Up! Up!"

"Up! Up! Up!" repeated Emilia.

Viola asked, "Be Malfoy's mind-reading of what validity so'er, could Mr. Higgs do it?"

"I doubt it," said Scorpius, glancing up at the man munching popcorn in the stands.

Viola kicked off. "Then Drang wouldn't have been caught. My choice is nay to disqualify any one yet, but I'll expect a bounty more speed from you who bought Portobello's potion. Let's catch some Quaffles."

"We're still only as fast as our brooms can go," squeaked one girl, but Drang smiled as he kicked off into the air after Viola.

It only took an hour for Viola and the team to agree that Vaughn Drang was the most promising candidate.

o.o.o.o

Quidditch practices would be a relief from schoolwork, as long as Scorpius could manage to get everything done. At least he could rely on a good study group, now that Rose was speaking to him again.

He gave up on sitting by her in Arithmancy after the first class, feeling more comfortable further back. While Al filled parchment with Japanese characters that might have been a direct translation of Hermione Weasley's requirements for their N.E.W.T. projects, but were more likely a letter to Katsue, Scorpius copied down Professor Weasley's explanation.

The project had to be an original work, an invention that used Arithmancy to create something new. It could be a spell, or it could be an enchanted or bewitched object. They would have all year to finish it, but would have to do most of it on their own outside of class. They were to determine a goal, write their plan, and present it to Professor Weasley during class in November so she could approve it or give them suggestions.

Two months seemed like a generous amount of time to develop an idea for an Arithmancy project. Surely there was some amazing charm, bewitchment, or impressive object yet to be invented. Scorpius thought this might be one assignment he would enjoy.

o.o.o.o

Professor Beatrice Fenwick, an aging ex-auror and the Head of Hufflepuff, arranged the desks in her Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom into groups. She called them "squads," and assigned them to practice and work together. Scorpius, Al, Rose, and Mabeuf Fortescue formed a squad that might have been described as the best of each of the four houses.

Professor Fenwick tapped her cane on the floor and spoke in a creaky voice. "Class! This week will conclude our study of defending yourself against creatures of the dark. Thereafter, our lessons will only be on opposition to dark witches and wizards. Now—you can deal with boggarts and erklings easily if you see them for what they are, and your best bet against the larger creatures is a barrage of hefty stunning spells, like we practiced. The most difficult creatures to repulse are the ones that _are_ darkness—embodied, concentrated darkness. Miss Weasley, the two species I am talking about are...?"

"Dementor, and lethifold." Rose answered.

"Dementor, and the more primitive lethifold, yes. They both feed on our emotions, though the dementor has refined its ability to extract the emotions without harming the body. Mr. Potter, the only way to repel these creatures...?"

Al replied, "The Patronus Charm."

"Correct. Now—this charm requires very intense concentration. You must be prepared to maintain your focus on a happy memory while a dementor is attempting to suck the happiness away from you." Professor Fenwick limped around the room as she explained how to choose a happy memory. Powerful memories sometimes came from a great success or thrill, or more often from family and love. She had the class repeat the incantation, expecto patronum.

"Now, everyone, move your desks and chairs against the back wall so we have some practicing space," Fenwick instructed.

The desks and chairs bumped each other as each student levitated theirs back toward the wall, but over the noise Professor Fenwick called, "Stand in a line! Spread out a bit! Watch me first."

She closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate with great effort. She breathed a deep, contented inhale, and pronounced, "expecto patronum!"

From the silvery glow at her wand tip there emerged a bright, heavily armored tortoise. It ambled smoothly through the air, past the line of seventh years, and then faded away.

"If you can produce a strong enough non-corporeal patronus to repel a dementor, that will exceed expectations on your N.E.W.T.. A corporeal one would certainly be outstanding, so simply give it your best try. Go ahead now." Fenwick said.

Scorpius whispered to Al, "I don't know...yours might not pass."

"Yeah, I'll be lucky to earn a 'Dreadful'." Al smirked. "You try first."

Students around them were beginning to try the spell. Rose impressed Fenwick with an otter patronus that swam in a circle around the room before dissolving, and two or three others created shapeless flickers of light.

Scorpius pictured blue sky and the treetops behind his manor, where he remembered riding his first broom, chasing after his father and a little golden snitch. Flying was one of the only things that made Draco feel lighthearted, and when Scorpius was younger he had often asked to go fly with him. He focused...the sky, the wind, his father urging him on and the sparkle of the snitch in the sunlight—

"Expecto patronum," he said, but nothing happened.

He decided on another memory, when his parents had taken him for ice-cream after he won a piano competition.

He forgot about the memory when Al said "expecto patronum!" and a large owl erupted into the classroom. It was so brilliant that Scorpius had to blink, and the beating of its wings was tangible enough to send papers fluttering off of Professor Fenwick's desk.

"Aha, there we are," creaked Fenwick, "I was waiting to see if yours would be better than the one I saw you make a few years ago, Mr. Potter."

Al held out his arm, and the silvery owl flew to him and fluttered down to perch. He stroked its feathers, which swirled around his fingers like smoke, but the patronus didn't fade.

"Can you make it speak?" Fenwick asked.

"Yes, Professor." Al said, and he nodded to the bird.

It bobbed its head and opened its beak to sing in Al's voice, "You have heard of the powerful Merlin of old, And of Godric, Ignotus, and Trent; But not one wizard's tale is so tragic, so bold, As this Odo the Hero lament!"

Amid praise and laughter from the class, the owl patronus took a deep breath to begin another stanza of its dirge. Fenwick intervened, "That's quite enough, Potter, we're convinced. Your patronus is well beyond Outstanding...your singing is another matter."

The patronus hooted indignantly, and Al chuckled. Then he hoisted his arm, it spread its wide white wings and took off into shimmering vapor.

"How do you do it, Albus?" asked a Gryffindor girl, Divya Narayanan.

"It's like Professor Fenwick said—you picture a happy memory and focus on the warm, contented feeling, and when you say the incantation, you can feel the charm's energy gathering up toward your heart and out your arm. I have several memories that work, but the best one is of my family's trip to Japan after fourth year."

"I've seen his little sister make one," said another Gryffindor. "All his siblings could do it by their third years—Harry Potter helps them practice it at home during the holidays."

"I don't know where you heard that," scoffed Al, "that's illegal."

_Illegal...but they do it anyway, just like how my father taught me jinxes and hexes during the holidays. It's only muggle-borns that really can't use magic away from school. _Scorpius shook his head.

Fenwick spoke patiently, "Well, we can't all be Potters. The rest of you, keep trying, and don't worry, the first time is the most difficult. Many say they find it easier to conjure a corporeal patronus after they have seen it and can thence visualize the form it takes. I suggest that you consider what animal you most strongly identify with. A witch or wizard's patronus is often an animal they would enjoy being, or one that they behave like in some way. It is also often patterned after a parent, grandparent, or someone you admire—if your parents were able to form patronuses it is highly likely that yours will match one of theirs. Before we try again, rally with your squads, and discuss your ideas about your patronus' form."

Fortescue said, "My dad has never made a patronus, but my mum's is a cat. Uncle Enjolras' is a basset hound."

Rose nodded. "Would you like one of those?"

"I think a hound would be cool—loyal, strong senses of hearing and smell. That's what I'll try to visualize."

"Yeah, I think that would fit you," Al told him. "What about you, Scor?

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't really care. I'll just try to make a non-corporeal one."

Al pressed, "Hey! Don't aim for mediocrity—non-corporeal patronuses aren't half as strong as true ones, and they can't send messages. What kind of animal could yours be?"

"I guess the obvious thing would be a scorpion..." Scorpius said unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." agreed Fortescue.

Al grimaced, "would you want to be a scorpion?"

"No."

"What about your parents, or grandparents? Do any of them make patronuses?"

"No...well...I heard from my mum that her father, Darion Greengrass, could make one."

"And it was...?"

"It was...I think she said it was a tarantula."

Al and Rose exchanged a glance. They knew how Scorpius felt about arachnids. It would be a bitter joke indeed, if Scorpius' own patronus, a symbol of his inner self, was something that he despised. If it was anything related to a scorpion or a tarantula, he would rather not know.

When Professor Fenwick told the class to try again, Scorpius thought of times when his parents or friends complimented his piano music, he thought of Quidditch games won, and he thought of happy times with Al and Rose, but he didn't achieve the faintest glow of a patronus.

o.o.o.o

Scorpius went alone into the Chamber of Secrets during the free period he had while Al and Rose were in Care of Magical Creatures.

He opened the lid of his piano and looked in at the strings, the shiny plate, the soundboard underneath, and the pinblock that held all the strings' tuning pins. He put the sheet music to the side so he could reach in to the tuning pins. The piano had slipped unpleasantly out of tune during the summer. The best way Scorpius had found of tuning it was using a silencing jinx to mute strings so he could play one at a time, and using a lever charm to grasp and rotate each of the tuning pins with a motion of his wand. Scorpius started in the middle of the middle, matched one C string to the sound of a tuning fork, and then matched the second unison string to the first. He continued, note by note, peg by peg, tuning by ear. It took a long time. He doubted that Al and Rose would want to listen to him pounding each note over and over, therefore he was doing it alone.

Between each smooth white or black key and the hammer that hit the string there were dozens of little mechanical parts that he had transfigured into existence. He didn't know exactly how they worked any more than someone who transfigured a tea kettle into a tortoise knew the biological details of reptiles; a wizard just needed a general idea of what he wanted to make, and magic did the rest. Animagi would need a better understanding of how to change their own bodies, but then they could do it without a wand.

The thought of animagi made Scorpius involuntarily imagine himself shrinking into the brittle exoskeleton of a scorpion. Twisting an F# sharper, he shuddered.

"Orion claimed to be a great hunter," Draco had once told Scorpius while they sat at dinner, "he thought he was stronger than any creature in the world, and he went out to prove it, but when he met the scorpion, it stung him and killed him. The scorpion had venom that Orion couldn't see. It was subtle and quick, and that made it better than the best."

"The very best, Scorpius," Lucius had added pointedly.

"Jupiter and Venus were both at their full brightness on the night you were born, which is a sign of good fortune," said Narcissa, "and they were both right inside the Scorpius constellation. That is why you were named Scorpius. It was the same with Draco."

_I was named because of the stars, so it has nothing to do with my personality_, Scorpius told himself as he hammered a G. Yet, there was something about the subtle sting and proud precision of a scorpion, that hit home. Sometimes Scorpius didn't know why he did things—taking a bribe from that Vaughn Drang kid, and the next moment trying to get him disqualified; constantly forgetting to get the thunder ruby out of his trunk to turn in to Professor Vector; craving the friendship of Rose and Al, the best at Hogwarts, yet not trusting them with information like what he had heard in Borgin and Burke's in August.

_I can't tell Al about that, I'm protecting my family,_ he reasoned. Mentioning dark magic to a Potter is effectively the same as reporting it to the Auror Department. _If Marcus Flint found out I was involved, he would storm Malfoy Manor._

There was another voice in Scorpius' head that argued that Al and his dad would be able to get things done without giving away their informant. They could send messages by patronus, after all. _But Harry Potter hates the Malfoys..._ The other voice again argued that no one could storm Malfoy Manor. It had stood strong since 1089, through many wars of muggles and wizards.

Scorpius continued to think as he continued to work. The piano still had a long extent of tuning to do, but it needed to be done. He knew he should be honest with his best friend. Although he didn't want to talk about Flint or the Oni, especially to admit that he had lied before, Scorpius promised himself that if a good opportunity came up, he would tell Al everything.

o.o.o.o

Later, on a Saturday when all three friends were in their Chamber of Discoveries, the piano was in tune and they had finished their homework, which finally gave them enough time to turn their attention to other repairs.

"Where did you find the break between the cylestiander and the ceiling?" Al asked Rose.

"It was a bit more than halfway up," she answered. Al was on his broom, feeling the air with his hands. Rose and Scorpius were spraying water and bubbles out of their wands to clean the floor. It was a large floor, but they were working fast.

"I see," Al said, and then started to move his wand in knot-like patterns in the air. Scorpius expected to see the stone ceiling grow bright, but it didn't. Al flew upwards and touched the stone.

"It's not just the connection. I think the whole bewitchment has worn off. We were only second years when we cast it, so we probably didn't do it very well...Looks like we were not as brilliant and precocious as we thought we were."

"Do you remember how the bewitchment spell went? Scorpius asked.

"I wrote it somewhere..." said Al.

"What if we enchanted it instead?" offered Rose. "It would be more permanent."

"We'll only be here this year," said Scorpius, but Al agreed with Rose.

"Let's enchant it. When the spell is embedded within the ceiling it will keep itself working, instead of needing to be renewed. Maybe in the Spring we can bequeath the Chamber to Lily and Hugo."

Scorpius cleaned the floor around the last pillar and then they gathered around a shelf of Al's notebooks.

"Let me see...second year..." Al said, and pulled down a tattered book. He flipped through it to a page that was full of scribbled words, all crossed out except the last line.

"That would have been so much easier if we had known more Grammatica," Rose said, "do you remember trying different variations of words for the spell? Most of them did nothing."

"But one made the ceiling look like magma," recalled Al enthusiastically.

Rose put her hand on her forehead. "I was terrified that we had actually turned it to magma. But we were just making it show what was below us instead of what was above us."

Scorpius went to the table where he had left his copy of "W^LX NYT TK^NZLAT," and together, the three of them translated the line of magic words into runic symbols. Rose calculated the size of runic text, the right position, and the number of repetitions to carve.

"It's too bad this place is secret. Otherwise you might be able to use it as your Arithmancy project," said Al.

"Mum would not be pleased to know we've been down here," Rose said, "and I'm looking for a project that is more complex and important—something that improves life on a broader scale."

When the enchantment was ready to inscribe on the ceiling, Al took his rune-carving knife and the parchment of runes in hand and mounted his broom, but Scorpius looked over at his piano. His fingers were itching to play.

"Hey, do you need me to help, or will you two be able to inscribe while I play for a few minutes?"

"Go ahead. We've got it."

Al and Rose flew up to opposite sides of the Chamber and started carving the runes repeatedly, in a long strip that would border the rectangular ceiling. Their rune-carving knives, highly developed magical tools, made carving in stone as easy as writing with a quill on parchment.

Scorpius scanned the first page of his music. It was marked Profondement calme. He set his hands on the first chord, which was a splash of low and high notes, the highest note on the right hand being more than five octaves above the lowest note on the left.

Although Scorpius' table-piano was not a great quality instrument, the Chamber had excellent acoustics and the cool, deep sound of Debussy's music floated up to the ceiling where Al and Rose were working.

Above the heavy, parallel bass chords, notes ascended in gently repeating patterns like bubbles rising through water. Scorpius noticed the ceiling begin to change. It now looked like grey clay instead of hard black rock.

"Is this that song about the ocean?" Rose asked.

"No," answered Scorpius as he continued to play, "but it is by the same composer, and it is about water."

"Debussy?" she asked.

"Yes."

Al cheered, "Brilliant, Rose! Scor is always trying to get me to guess the composers and I never get them right."

Al hadn't been with them the last time Rose had heard Scorpius play a song by Debussy. After escaping the acromantula, Madame Pomphrey had kept both of them in the hospital wing overnight, and Scorpius for most of the next day also. She had given him an antidote for the venom and closed the wound, but a scar from the spider's dark magic remained near his elbow. Rose had ran up to visit him after her classes, and when Madame Pomphrey was finally satisfied that the venom was neutralized, the two of them had gone to the Chamber, expecting to find Al. Unfortunately Al and James had taken the brunt of the blame for being out in the forbidden forest and were in detention. Filled with a new appreciation for being able to use his arm, Scorpius had gone directly to play his piano. The song he had been working on at the time was a two piano arrangement of Debussy's _La Mer_.

"This sounds nice..." Rose had said after sitting on the bench by him and listening for a minute, "but it doesn't make sense. The notes are all disorganized...it seems to swirl around without going anywhere."

Scorpius had stopped and laughed. "That's the point. It's about the ocean, which is deep and mysterious, right? No one knows everything that could be in the ocean. It ebbs and flows but doesn't change much. Plus, that's the composer's style. Debussy—he's late romantic. It's great music," Scorpius had said, and then begun playing again.

"Hmm."

"Also, this is only half of it. It would probably make more sense if you heard it all together. It's a duet, that I'll be performing this summer with another one of my teacher's students."

"Oh, who?"

"Erica Lewis. A muggle. She's really nice; I like her a lot."

"You like her?"

"No! I don't _like_ her—I just meant, I don't mind that she's a muggle. If you...If you want, I'll play something else for you. What kind of music do you like?"

"How about something logical and pleasant?"

"Well, for logical and pleasant nothing is better than Bach."

Scorpius had found a large book of music by Bach and turned to a song called _Sheep May Safely Graze_. In contrast to _La Mer_, it had steady, traditional rhythms and comfortable harmonies, yet it was one of the most heartfelt pieces of music Scorpius knew.

Rose had listened, and when it was over Scorpius had asked, "What do you think of that one?"

She had leaned close and kissed him softly.

Scorpius dwelt on the memory while he played, wishing that Rose was sitting next to him now, instead of flying high above.

"What is the name of this song?" she asked.

"_Cathedrale Engloutie_."

"Sunken Cathedral," Al translated.

Rose and Al continued carving the repeating runes, and slowly, green-blue light began to shimmer through the ceiling. Scorpius watched a dense tangle of seaweed sway above as he played a heavy, rolling line of music, and gradually their view in the Chamber rose up through the swaying lake-forest into clearer water.

Fish passed and the giant squid followed them slowly, like a great black whale, its shadow flowing across the stone floor. Water-sifted light cast patterns on the pillars of the Chamber, making the carved snakes appear to swim.

"This is nice. Maybe we should just stop here," suggested Al, but Rose disagreed.

"The enchantment is unstable here. If we wanted to only go so far we would have needed to space the runes out at larger intervals. Besides, I prefer to see the sky!"

Scorpius agreed. He could look up through the lake from his dormitory, so there in the Chamber, he would rather see sky.

As Scorpius brought his song down to its soft, settled ending, Rose and Al brought the ceiling of the chamber up to the shimmering surface of the lake, and then out into daylight.

**Notes:**

**This has taken so long! Real life is really lively, so it's hard to find time to write :) Thanks for still reading.**

**If I were to start over, I think I would cut Quidditch altogether because it has little to do with the rest of the plot...but I thought Draco would want his son to play Quidditch, and it will give me an opportunity to do fun things with characters we love like Hugo and Lily. It's in. I'll try to make it exciting.**

**Just for fun, here are a couple of questions for you magicians out there—**

**1) What kind of spells should "finite incantatem" counteract? All minor charms/jinxes/hexes that are cast on an accessible object/person? It obviously couldn't stop something like Voldemort's jinx on the Defence job...could it stop the Imperius curse?**

**2) How is the Knight Bus not a misuse of muggle artifacts?**


End file.
